#screeches noisily

[considerad]

sigh

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Do you have any good words to use instead of exclaim?

Thank you, I love this blog so much!

So glad to hear this. Thank you! <3 I love making these writing references as well.

Exclaim - to cry out, speak, or utter in a strong or sudden burst of emotion

Assert - to state or declare positively and often forcefully or aggressively

Aver - to allege or assert in pleading

Babble - to talk enthusiastically or excessively

Bellow - to make the loud deep hollow sound

Bewail - to express deep sorrow for usually by wailing and lamentation

Blabber - to talk foolishly or excessively

Blat - to declare positively; to utter loudly or foolishly

Blunder - to utter stupidly, confusedly, or thoughtlessly

Blurt (out) - to utter abruptly and impulsively

Bray - to utter or play loudly or harshly

Burst out - to say (something) suddenly

Caterwaul - to make a harsh cry

Chirp - to utter (something) with a cheerful liveliness; to make sharply critical, complaining, or taunting remarks

Clamor - to utter or proclaim insistently and noisily

Crow - to utter a sound expressive of pleasure

Gab - to talk in a rapid or thoughtless manner

Gabble - to say with incoherent rapidity

Gush - to make an effusive display of affection or enthusiasm

Hoot - to shout or laugh usually derisively

Howl - to cry out loudly and without restraint under strong impulse (such as pain, grief, or amusement)

Inveigh - to protest or complain bitterly or vehemently

Orate - to speak in an elevated and often pompous manner

Perorate - to deliver a long or grandiloquent oration

Repine - to feel or express dejection or discontent

Roar - to utter or emit a full loud prolonged sound

Screech - a high shrill piercing cry usually expressing pain or terror

Shout - to utter a sudden loud cry

Shriek - to utter a sharp shrill sound

Shrill - to utter or emit an acute piercing sound

Snarl - to give vent to anger in surly language

Spout - to speak or utter readily, volubly, and at length

Squall - to utter in a strident voice

Squawk - to utter a harsh abrupt scream

Squeal - to cause to make a loud shrill noise

Vociferate - to utter or cry out loudly

Wail - to express a prolonged cry or sound expressing grief or pain; loud lamentation

Whine - to utter a high-pitched plaintive or distressed cry

Yammer - to utter repeated cries of distress or sorrow; to utter persistent complaints; to talk persistently or volubly and often loudly

Yawp - (or yaup) to make a raucous noise

Yowl - to utter a loud long cry of grief, pain, or distress

Hope this helps. If it inspires your writing in any way, please tag me, or leave a link in the replies. I would love to read your work!

More: Word Lists ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[bitterrfruit]

he wakes you up

waking up hungover after letting a cocky scottish stranger spend the night. indie sleaze!Soap x reader, no cw. 1.4k words, mdni an: never posted a part 2 to my old fic trainspotting, but i wrote a good chunk of it. sleazy brow ring johnny is still close to my heart so i thought i'd share a bit of it <3

You wake up slowly, sweatily, mouth dry and fuzzy like you had swallowed a lump of cotton – so delirious, for a moment, that you expect to hear your mother calling for you to hurry up or you’ll miss the bus.  

No, instead, you hear the sparkling white noise of running water. Can’t be rain, because the sun beams brightly through your open window – directly onto your face, blinding you, sending you spinning as you tug your thin pillow and hold it over your head to shield yourself.  

Groaning, your brain throbs swollen and heavy, your skull an iron vice. You force yourself to sit upright, hoping your feet on the ground will calm the swelling nausea, turbulent in the pit of your stomach. It doesn’t.  

Bathroom. Bathroom.  

You leap out of bed, sprinting to the door of the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that separates your and Katie’s bedrooms. Throwing it open, you tumble to the toilet, hair unfortunately coating the toilet seat as your abdomen lurches noisily – tossing a pitiful spoonful of pink, cherry-flavoured vomit into the clear water with a foul splash. Ew.  

The shower is running, you realise, in the subsequent post-puke calm. You would have expected Katie to say something to your intrusion, but after a year of living together you have very few boundaries left. You wonder what time she might’ve come home during the night – suppose the bloke she went home with must have been a disappointment if she didn’t even stay till morning. No surprises there.  

You hear the thud of the shower lever and the water shuts off. After a few deep breaths, you build up the strength to apologise for barging in, sitting on your knees on the tiled floor.  

“Sorry – hic – couldn’t hold it in,” you burp, rubbing your forehead, tearing off a piece of loo paper to wipe your nose. “How was–” 

“Mornin’, hen,” comes the low voice of a man, tired and gravelly. “How ye feelin’?”  

Not fucking Katie.  

You cock your head back in shock, swiping your matted hair from your face, as your eyes shoot to the polyester shower curtain being tugged open with a screech.  

Hairy legs jut out from the cubicle, big feet land on the shaggy bathmat. Your eyes follow them upward, thick thighs, rippling muscle under a layer of flesh and furry skin. Until your stare hitches on the cock hanging brazenly from a fine carpet of brown curls – thick from base to tip, uncircumcised but its meaty pink head exposed, a hefty vein running down the length of it. Looks heavy even soft.  

You choke on any words you might be able to utter – jumping from shock, to fear, to awe, back to confusion. Who… 

“Eyes up here, bunny.” He teases you, that gruff voice barely familiar.  

A response suddenly comes to you, remembering it vaguely, and your lips form the words as if it were a realisation.  

“They’re just as pretty,” you croak, staring into the void of space before you finally glance at the man’s face.  

The shaven head, the brow ring, the glint of that golden tooth sparkling from the cocky smile that puckers dimples into his cheeks – now, yes, you somewhat remember him.  

“Ah, good. Y’do remember.”  

Suddenly humiliated, realising how much of a fucking mess you must be – you look down at yourself, seeing your vastly oversized Strokes band tee that you do not remember putting on. Nor do you remember getting out of the miniscule body suit you had worn to the party, nor peeling off the fishnets that had been flossing you from front to back for the duration of the blurry evening.  

There’s probably makeup smudged into racoon-like circles around your eyes, there must be smears of your pink lip-gloss in the corners of your mouth. If you weren't so ill, you'd run and hide from him.

“Did I-” you stammer aloud, attempting to connect the dots. “Were you at the party?”  

He tuts, huffing disappointedly, as he reaches for the yellow floral towel hanging on the rail. Katie’s towel.  

“Och, dear,” he grunts facetiously, as he rubs it vigorously over his head, patting under his chin, chest, arms. Doesn’t seem to bother asking as he uses it to dry his balls, mammoth dick flopping around shamelessly as he does so. Your cheeks burn pink.  

“You weren’t?”  

“If I’m honest, hen,” he remarks, as he ties the towel nonchalantly around his hips, tucks it in just above his mound. Still brandishes that happy trail, and the sharp angled creases below his abs that carve from his hips to his cock. “Ye got me feelin’ a bit guilty.”  

“Why?” You swallow, doing your best to stop ogling him like a little animal.  “Did we…”  

He snorts. “You wish.”  

You frown, suddenly failing to suppress the admonishing smirk that curls in your lips. “We didn’t do anything?”  

He shrugs, rubbing the top of his buzzed head with his palm. “We had a wee bit o’fun,” he admits, a twinge of shame in his rumbling throat, “but no, nothing too regrettable.”  

You find yourself weirdly disappointed. “Why not?”  

And your slightly dissatisfied query seems to lift some weight from his shoulders, he returns with a grin. “You were a bit steamed, hen,” he says. “would’ve been dodgy of me to stick it in ye while y’were like that, eh?”  

“Mm,” you nod, concealing your chagrin, the memory of running into him on the road suddenly flies back to you, colliding with you like a slap.  

A complete stranger. Naked (mostly) in your bathroom.  

“Didn’t expect you’d be such a gentleman,” you gripe, a tad facetious. 

He smiles. “Disappointed, are ye?” He jibes, tilting his head. “Y’were definitely disappointed last night. Poor wee thing. Got all whiney.”  

You flush hot as that memory slithers back to you, too. Cheeks aren’t the only thing that burn at the thought. You suddenly harken back to the weight of his palm on your cunt, the mocking pressure of the heel of his palm grinding against your clit. Your stomach drops at the memory. 

“Did not,” you murmur.  

“Uh-huh,” he chuckles at you, sauntering in your direction, he holds out a hand for you. You smile bashfully as you take it, and he lifts you to your feet so deftly you’re almost lifted into the air. “Feelin’ alright?” 

You’re a little dizzy after standing so quick, you blink heavily as you swallow. “Mm. Been better,” you huff, “I probably look like shit.”  

He frowns at that, tutting in disapproval as his raffish eyes linger on your lips – you lick them, worried there might be a speck of residual puke in the corner of your mouth.  

“Ye’re havin’ me on,” he chides, disapproval in his tone.  

“Am I?” You groan, wiping under your eyes with your fingertips in the hopes of swiping away some running makeup.  

He shakes his head. “Far too pretty to be talkin’ like that, bunny.” 

With a grimace, then a snicker, you glance downward at the chipped pink glitter on your toenails. “That’s nice, but–” 

“Psh,” he immediately cuts you off. “Don’t y’believe me?”  

Reeling in awkward embarrassment, you cross your arms, digging nails into your biceps as you look everywhere but him. Through a strained chuckle, you answer, “Not really.” 

His attention is almost intimidating; an unwavering, low-lidded glare as a smirk tugs in his lips. Tucks a hooked finger under your chin, coaxing your head to lift just slightly enough to look along your nose at him.  

From his throat, he rumbles, 

“Need me to show ye how pretty y’are, hen?” 

Your skin turns molten, glowing and pliant, eyes glossy and eager as you stare up at him through clumped lashes. He simply wears that snide little grin, proud of himself, only growing prouder as he notices how flustered he’s made you. Fuck! 

Lips part to let words free but they turn sticky on your tongue, and he brushes your chin with his thumb.  

“Look at’cha,” he sneers, letting go of your face; using the tip of his thick finger to sweep a rogue hair from your forehead with a gentleness that you’re earnestly surprised he’s capable of. His tenderness is fleeting, though, because he chuckles; “Too easy.”  

Jaw agape, you only laugh as you cover your eyes with your palms. “God, you’re such a dickhead.”  

He hums, a giggle, swaggering around you before swinging a quick smack on your ass, making you yip – casual and in passing, such a brash show of lude badinage that you can only gawk at him as he wanders into your room.  

“S’why you invited me in, in’t it?”  

Crossing your arms, you follow him sheepishly, squinting as you step into morning sunlight. “I don’t think I can remember why I invited you in, to be honest.”  

“Mm, well,” he grumbles, “I’ll have t’remind ye, won’t I?”

[waterkittywriting]

Arguing with Mori

Warnings: Mori in general, hitting, he's a lil possessive yk, age gap (reader is 18/19, Mori is 40), he's a bitch, not proofread, kinda unhealthy relationship

Characters: Mori Ougai

A/N: this is the only thing I can bring myself to write bc I've been obsessed with Mori recently. Sue me. This is heavily inspired by a scene in Lolita 1997 because that movie is fucking relatable and it's all I can think about recently.

"Alright, that's it."

The car screeched noisily as Mori pulled over, thankful for the relatively empty roads making it an easy task. You two had been fighting over something stupid - but you made it just a little too serious with that last comment.

"You want to disrespect me in my own car? Then get out. You can walk home yourself. I don't care." He hissed.

It was pouring out, and there was even some thunder. It was about 3 miles till you got home, not too long in the car but to walk? It would be terrible. "Are you fucking kidding me?" You scoff, staring at him with disbelief in your eyes. "It's 9pm, pouring rain, and you're gonna make a teenage girl walk home alone? Are you trying to get me killed you dickhead?!"

"I'm not making you do anything. All I want is a simple apology and we can drive home normally, and pretend this didn't happen." He leans back in the driver's seat, taking his hands off the steering wheel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You screamed. "Like actually, what is wrong with you?! You say you love me then all you wanna do is fuck! And when we have a normal argument, like a normal couple, you lose your shit and do things like this!" You were going to continue, but you were cut off by the most menacing look you'd ever seen him direct at you. You'd seen that face before, of course, directed at nosy subordinates or people who were doing him wrong, but never at you. Never at you.

You stop talking and move to unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to leave the car, but Mori stops you by wrapping a single hand around both your wrists, pulling them towards him before you could even unbuckle. "I thought you wanted me to leave." You snarled.

"Quite the contrary, dear. I would love for you to stay, but if you're going to keep acting like a little brat I might just shove you out of the car myself." He says smoothly, his voice dripping with condescension.

"Oh, so now you're holding me captive? You're a kidnapper and a creep? I mean seriously, what forty year old man dates-" you're cut off by a harsh slap on your cheek and a stinging sensation as he lets go of your wrists and sighs heavily, resting his elbow on the center console and his forehead in the palm of his hand. "God, you make it so difficult to love you sometimes."

You can't help it. Your lip starts to quiver and you start wailing as you turn around and shove the car door open, pushing yourself out of the car and onto the sidewalk. You begin to run away, you're not sure where you're going but you need to get away. Away from him. You're followed by the sounds of him calling your name and the door of his car opening and closing.

You don't look behind you but you know he's running after you, you can hear his footsteps and the heavy breathing until he finally catches up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him from behind. By now you're both absolutely soaked in rain water, your clothes sticking to your skin and against his as he holds you there.

You turn around so you can sob into his chest, choking and coughing out apologies into his wet jacket. Eventually he leads you back to the car, opening your door for you and buckling your seatbelt.

Once you're both buckled and in the car you're silent. Neither of you can bring yourselves to say anything. You know he's not going to apologize for hitting you no matter how guilty he may or may not feel. He never apologizes, he just brings you designer purses and beautiful makeup the next day and it's enough to get you to forgive him. It always is.

[grlsbstshot]

NEON LIGHTS

Pairing (Original Characters):

Jameson Lucas (Aaron Pierre) x Imani St. Cirie (Megan thee Stallion) Genie Adesanya (Jayme Lawson) x Ellington “EJ” Dupree (Kelvin Harrison Jr.)

Chapters:

Neon Lights Masterlist

Chapter Synopsis: back in los angeles, jamani's romantic bubble bursts as reality sets in. paparazzi swarm, work resumes, and tensions rise when sloane and Christian get involved. meanwhile, genie struggles with her growing feelings for ej and overcomes an emotional setback

Warnings: smut (18+, minors dni), toxic relationship, them b words! (watch them b words!), sexual activity (fingering & oral - female receiving), dirty talk, explicit terminology -- if we missed anything, let us know!

Word Count: 10.1k I told yall a lot was going on. GET IN HERE. Divider Template: @cafekitsune

Notes: The following characters are original creations. Their voice claims are Usher / Lucky Daye (Jameson) & Summer Walker / SZA (Imani). We have no affiliation to any of those artists.

The automatic doors of LAX slid open, and the quiet hum of the airport interior was instantly drowned out by a wall of noise. Cameras flashed like lightning strikes, shouts ricocheted off the concrete, and the steady hum of idling cars was punctuated by the screech of tires.

James Lucas stepped out first, his hand gripping Imani’s before he notices the gathering that immediately moves in their direction. He shifts to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her close as if she might slip away in the chaos. He kept his head down, the reflection of his sunglasses obscured though his clenched jaw was impossible to hide. Genie followed close behind, similar pair of sunglasses on, her carry on suitcase trailing noisily over the pavement.

Her body language shifted from relaxed to tense before she regained a level of poise that escaped her companions. She had been used to this from birth. Where Jameson hadn't learned to hide his feelings, Genie did. She stared straight ahead, placing her hand against Imani's shoulder. The two worked in tandem to protect Imani.

“James! Imani! Are you two back together?” “Did you get engaged in Rome?” “Imani, over here! Can you look this way?” “James, what about the rumors you were seeing someone else before the trip?”

The questions came rapid-fire, each one laced with a sharper edge than the last. James didn’t answer. He never did. Instead, he tightened his grip around Imani as they navigated the maze of photographers and reporters. Airport security came out to assist but they were seemingly overwhelmed by the paps who all seemed to want to trigger a reaction from the trio.

Imani, for her part, looked unbothered. She wore oversized sunglasses and a sleek black coat that fell just below her knees, her expression unreadable as flashes lit up her face. But Jameson could feel her tight grasp on his free hand —the way her fingers curled slightly in his palm, the way her steps quickened when a reporter got too close.

"C'mon, man. Back up." Jameson muttered, his voice low and steady as they approached the car waiting. He shot a glance at Genie, who was now a step behind, her phone pressed to her ear as she pretended to be deep in conversation. Genie was good at this. She didn’t flinch, didn’t react. She just kept walking, her lips twitching into a smirk as one particularly overeager photographer tripped over his own feet.

The car was waiting just beyond the barricade, its sleek black frame a beacon of escape. Jameson guided Imani toward it, shielding her with his body as they reached the curb. A final burst of shouts erupted behind them—"Imani, do you think this will last?"—but the door slammed shut before the words could linger.

She didn't say anything but she turned to glare at the man who asked the question before Jameson shut the door. He moved to help Genie into the car, protecting her the way as he had done with Imani. Her bag was placed on the floor as she took his hand and front of her seat next to her and finally, he climbed inside. The doors were shut and finally, each could hear themselves think.

Inside the car, silence fell over them all like a heavy curtain. Imani exhaled first, sliding her sunglasses off and rubbing her temples. “That was worse than usual.”

"They get worse and worse every fucking day." Jameson said, his voice still tight as he leaned back against the seat. His shoulders stayed stiff, though, as if he couldn’t quite relax. The questions they had flung at the two bothered him -- more than he was willing to admit.

From the front seat, Genie let out a breathy laugh. "Welcome home, lovebirds." She turned to glance at them, one perfectly arched brow lifting. "Jamani was trending before we even got through customs."

Jameson groaned, closing his eyes. Imani didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on her phone as it buzzed softly in her lap. One new message.

[ 2134551147 ]: welcome back. let’s catch up soon.

She stared at it for a moment too long before responding

[ imani ]: and this would be? [ 2134551147 ]: christian

She frowned, wondering why he felt they were close enough for a welcome back text. As far as she knew, he was the guy her best friend had a crush on. Nothing more, nothing less. Either way, Imani wasn't interested in making him a priority. She ignored the text, locking her phone and dropping it in her bag as she reached across the space between she and Jameson to brush her fingertips against his earlobe.

He opened his eyes to gaze at her, smiling faintly as he reached up to pull her hand to his mouth. He pressed kiss after kiss to her skin -- from her fingertips to her wrist. They left the chaos of the paparazzi blitz behind but she couldn't help but feel that something else was coming.

As the car rolled up the long driveway to Jameson's Beverly Hills home, Genie was the first to see someone parked out front. She didn't recognize the car and briefly glanced into the backseat to ask Jameson if it was his -- but he and Imani were both asleep. So Genie didn't say a word. She thanked their driver as he came to a stop at the front door, a strange flutter in her chest. She wasn’t sure what it was—maybe the exhaustion from the long flight or the pull of being back in familiar surroundings—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was different.

She got out of the car, lifting her bag before she knocked on the back window hard. She heard Jameson jolt awake with a groan and knew her job was done. Before she could get used to the weight of the bag in her hand, it was snatched away. Genie turned with a speed that gave her a sprain in her damn neck. Standing next to her was EJ.

She blinked at him in surprise, realization dawning on her that the car she didn't recognize was his. "Ms. Adesanya," he greeted her softly, his gaze sweeping the length of her body. "Welcome back." From her crown of curls to the sneakers she wore, nothing escaped the touch of his gaze. Genie tried to get her mouth to work but all that came out was a cough. She heard doors opening behind her and was briefly grateful that Imani and Jameson had gotten out.

Imani was already gathering her things, slipping out of the car with a stretch of her arms over her head. Jameson made himself busy taking their things out of the car. Bag after bag was swept into his grasp as he overloaded himself -- doing his best to make sure Imani didn't have to carry a thing. "It feels good to be back." she said, a sigh of escaping her as she easily headed up the entryway into Jameson's home. It was like she hadn't spent a year as someone else's girlfriend. Jameson followed her inside, a little smile on his face as she went inside.

"Mhm." Genie agreed but her thoughts were on the man in front of her. Besides the short nod he gave them both, he hadn't moved to greet his best friend or hers. "What are you doing here?" she asked him, swallowing her surprise and reaching for the bag he had taken from her. EJ moved his hand back, refusing to let her recollect it. She couldn’t stop thinking about the conversations they’d had while she was in Rome, the way his voice had softened when he spoke to her, the teasing that had felt more personal than usual. She’d tried to ignore it. Tried to tell herself it was nothing. But it was hard to deny the way her heart beat a little faster as he stood in front of her.

"I wanted to be here when you got here. I missed you." EJ said, his voice light, but there was an underlying warmth to it that made Genie’s stomach do a little flip.

She forced herself not to smile, trying to keep her aloof confidence intact. "Somehow I doubt you missed me that much." she said softly, her voice came out a little breathless, and she hated how obvious it was. Genie sized him up, eventually relenting in letting him carry her bag. She edged around him, staying out of reach as if he'd snatch her up when she least expect it.

"I did." EJ said, his gaze lingering on her. "You don't know it yet but I'm not a man who says things I don't mean. You look good, you know? You always do, but...I suppose I'm looking at you in a different way now."

Genie felt her breath catch in her throat. Her eyes went wide and she froze before scrambling up the steps into Jameson's house. She was only supposed to drop the two off and then ask the driver to take her home but she wasn't thinking straight. She tried to put as much distance between herself and EJ. She hadn’t been prepared for...whatever he was doing. Normally, she would have brushed it off, made a joke, but there was something in the way he said it, something in the way he was looking at her, that made her feel exposed.

"Ms. Adesanya." EJ called out and Genie turned in the doorway. Jameson and Imani were nowhere to be seen. Nothing to distract from the fact that her heart was beating like crazy. "Let me know when you're ready to go home. I'll take you. I know you've got to be tired. It was a long trip."

"I'm not tired. Do I look tired?" Genie refuted, trying to figure out how to avoid being alone with EJ. She moved into the living room, settling herself on a couch and putting her feet up onto it so he didn't sit next to her. "It’s the jetlag," she said quickly, hoping to deflect. "Nothing serious."

"Well, if that’s jetlag, I think I need to catch it too." His voice was light, but his eyes were serious now, and it made her skin feel too tight. EJ sat her bag down next to the couch she was sitting on and made himself comfortable across from her -- on an entirely different couch. Genie relaxed somewhat...until he spoke again.

"I was hoping we could talk," he said, his voice softer now.

"About what?"z "You and me."

The words hung in the air, and Genie’s heart skipped a beat. She’d always known EJ cared, but hearing him say it like that... it was too much. Too real.

"I was unaware there was a you and me."z "There isn't. Not yet. That's what I want to talk about."

Genie jumped up from the couch, fear forcing her to pretend she hadn't heard him. "Imani! I'm going home!" The house was massive and she had no idea if she had heard her. "Jamie! I'm leaving! See you guys later!" The pull between them was undeniable, but she wasn’t ready to let herself feel it. She wasn’t ready to let him in. The last time she had done that, she got ripped apart. She didn't know EJ well enough to know that he wasn't like Christian -- and she couldn't afford to put herself at risk again.

She reached down for her bag again -- only for her hand to collide with EJ's. He was still look at her with those soft, caring eyes. Despite the fact that she had abruptly ended his attempts to establish a connection, he was still doing his best to take care of her. It should have calmed her but it scared her even more. She wanted to give in to it. "I got it. I got you." EJ said softly, waiting until she relented to pick up the bag. There was no anger or even a hint of upset in his gaze. Instead, he gave her a smile and nodded his head towards the door. "Let's go."

EJ pulled the car to a smooth stop in front of Genie’s home -- peering out of the window curiously. He had never seen her home before but it suited her. She didn't live in a massive mansion, behind iron gates. There was a wooden gate around the modern building. It fit into the West Hollywood neighborhood and it suited her. Sleek and smooth. He could bet there wasn't a thing out of place inside. Genie Adesanya had completely organized her life to fit into neat little sections. No wonder she didn't know what to do with him. EJ knew he didn't fit into a neat square. He glanced at her as she was unbuckling her seat beat, her movements brisk and deliberate like she was trying to avoid lingering too long.

"Thank you for the ride," she said, her voice light but a little too practiced.

"It's no problem," EJ replied, watching her out of the corner of his eye. "I'm just glad to help." She was all polished edges and grace, but there was something different. Something softer. Something...unnerved. Her usual air of confidence felt thinner, like she was holding it together with sheer willpower. He didn't flirt any further, didn't make a move the entire ride over. Little by little, she relaxed and he knew that she wasn't playing hard to get. She was unsure of him...and herself.

Genie opened the door and stepped out. Instead of closing the door, she paused then leaned down to give him a quick smile. "Really, EJ. Thank you. I...I'm sorry for being such a mess."

"You don't have a thing to apologize for." EJ said, softly, wanting to stop her before she even broached the subject again. "Go ahead. I'll wait for you to go inside." Genie nodded and closed the door before opening the back one to grab her bag out of it.

He watched as she walked toward gate and then to the front door, her back straight and her steps purposeful. But just before she reached the door, she hesitated. It was barely noticeable—a slight pause, a hitch in her stride—but it was enough to make EJ’s grip on the wheel tighten. She didn’t look back, though. She pushed through the door and disappeared inside, leaving EJ alone in the car.

For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the empty spot where she’d stood. He let out a slow breath, leaning back against the headrest as he tried to sort through the knot of emotions twisting in his chest. He hadn’t expected to feel this way. Not about her. Genie was... Genie. Confident, poised, untouchable. She wasn’t supposed to make him feel like this—like he wanted to protect her, to peel back the layers she kept so carefully in place and see what was underneath.

His interest hadn't waned but he realized rather quickly that doggedly pursuing her wasn't a way to get what he wanted. She would just run faster. Something had shifted when she saw him waiting for her. She hadn't been playfully flirty as he expected. He’d seen the cracks in her armor, the uncertainty she tried so hard to hide. And it hit him then, like a punch to the gut: she was scared. Scared of him. Scared of whatever this thing was between them.

EJ scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a low chuckle. "Okay, Ms. Adesanya. I'll take my time." He couldn’t just charge in like he usually did, teasing and flirting until she gave in. Genie wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever been interested in. She needed time. Patience. And he was going to give it to her.

Starting the car, EJ pulled away from the curb, his mind already racing. He’d have to find a way to settle her nerves, to show her that she didn’t have to be afraid of this. Of him.

Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Genie was worth it.

Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains, casting a warm, golden glow over the bedroom. Imani stirred beneath the soft linen sheets, the faint hum of activity from downstairs pulling her from sleep. She stretched languidly, everything pleasantly sore — a reminder of the way she and Jameson had celebrated a return to form appropriately. They hadn't even made their relationship official but Jameson carried on as if they were together again.

He had ushered her upstairs after they arrived at his home. He hadn't cared that their friends were downstairs. Jameson dropped her bags in his closet -- wordlessly inviting her to stay for as long as she wanted. Then he stripped her slowly, savoring the sight. They had both heard Genie call out to them but neither answered. They kept their gazes on each other, resisting the outside world for a little bit longer. When he spread her across his bed, he didn't let her get out of it. She spent the rest of that day and that night in the familiar sheets, embracing the fact that she was in love and always would be.

The room still carried traces of last twenty four hours: her tracksuit was separated -- the top on the floor where he'd started to undress her and the bottoms next to the bed. A flash of him peeling them along with her underwear down her legs came to mind and Imani grinned. Jameson's clothes were on the floor next to her bottoms. He hadn't taken a thing off until she came twice on his tongue. When he was undressed, he had pinned her down and went to town. The faint, intoxicating scent of him lingered on the pillows. A mixture of satisfaction and contentment warmed her chest.

Sliding out of bed, she wrapped herself in one of Jameson’s oversized button-downs from the closet then padded barefoot down from the second floor to the first. She followed the sound of clinking pans, the faint aroma of coffee, something sweet. As she got closer to the kitchen, she heard him before she saw him.

He was singing. Was it...Stevie Wonder? She laughed softly as he harmonized perfectly. Even without trying, his pitch was perfect. Jameson stood at the stove, barefoot and topless in sweatpants. "All I dooooo, ooh baby! Is think about yooou." He sang lowly as he flipped pancakes on a griddle. The image made her laugh. Suave, charming playboy dancing around his kitchen, singing love songs. "Good morning." Imani said, leaning against the counter with a playful smirk.

Jameson turned and she could see how happy he was. He lit up when he realized she was awake. "C'mere, girl." He told her as he clapped his hands together, making his way towards her with a goofy dance. Imani laughed, pushing off the counter as she tried to run from him. She moved slow as hell, waiting until he wrapped his arms around her waist to put up a fight. He pulled her body against his -- her back to his chest -- as they swayed together in his kitchen. "Well, let me tell you girrrl. Think of how exciting it would be...if you should discoveeer you feel like me!" he crooned, placing kisses to her neck between each word. "If you should discoveeer this dream is for two..."

Imani turned in his arms, hating how she giggled up at him. She was so go over this damn man that she started singing with him. "Well, I'm gonna tell you, giiirl." It hit her that they didn't sound half bad together. She opened her mouth to continue singing and he kissed her silent. She could hear the sizzling of the pancakes left on the griddle, the smell of bacon in the air. By the time he stopped kissing her, she didn't care about if he had burned breakfast or not. Stevie Wonder continued on with the song without them. He lifted his head, nipping at her lower lip. "How'd you sleep?" she heard him ask and slowly opened her arms. "Good" she said, "Very surprised you didn't wake me up though."

"You’re welcome." he teased, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm welcome? Pussy was so good, you in here singing and making breakfast." "Dick was so good that you wearing my shirt and singing along with me. So we're both welcome."

Imani rolled her eyes and yelped when he slapped his hand against her ass. "Start the day off right before I have to get you right." He warned her with a smirk. "We got a lot to do, you know.” Imani quirked a brow, confused. She didn't have a damn thing to do besides get sucked and fucked for the next forty eight hours. "What we got to do?"

"Sloane called this morning. She's throwing a party. We're invited. A little lowkey welcome back ting."

Imani blinked at Jameson before rolling her eyes once again, stepping out of his arms as she moved around the kitchen island. "You sure she invited me?"

Jameson followed her, not letting her get too far away. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and nodded his head before he moved back to the griddle and examined the burned pancake. "Yes. I'm sure. She wanted to make sure you didn't feel a way about those pictures. It was totally innocent. I swear."

She believed him but her feelings towards he and Sloane were a little complicated. If she were being honest? She didn't trust that girl. Something about her came off as fake. The way she fawned over Jameson wasn't fake though. Never had been. Imani didn't see any other woman as a threat but Sloane was quickly getting classified as an annoyance to her relationship with Jameson. "I was hoping it could just be us for a little bit longer."

Jameson turned to face her, a spatula still in hand. "You know we can’t avoid the world forever, right? It'll be fun, baby. I promise. Sloane ain't so bad when you get to know her."

Imani stepped back and poured herself a cup of coffee as she tried her best not to let her temper get the best of her. "Sloane," she said slowly, stretching out the name so she wouldn't call her a bitch. "Is kind of a lot."

Jameson chuckled, sliding a pancake onto a plate. Clearly he agreed but some kind of loyalty kept him from saying it. "I'm telling you. Deep down, she's a sweet girl. Before she was dressed up in that designer shit, she was just a kid looking for somebody to pay attention to her. Her parents never did but I promise you -- She's a good person."

"Mhm." Imani muttered, taking a sip from her coffee cup. Jameson finished making her plate and ushered her to a seat, pressing a kiss to her head. "Listen. I promise, it'll be a short stop. We'll go, mingle, then be done in thirty minutes -- because there's a couple of positions I haven't put your flexible ass in yet and I would rather spend my time doing that."

Imani couldn't help but smirk even as she cut her eyes. He couldn't get enough of her and she was glad that the feeling was mutual. "It’s not about her tho. The cameras, the whispers, the questions. It’s a lot to walk back into. We haven't even gotten back together really."

She felt him hesitate him before he crouched down next to her seat at the table. His hand was pressed to the back of her head, gently brushing through through her hair. "We don't have to answer any questions. What we are ain't nobody business but ours. And if anybody thinks that's their business? You ain't scared to tell nobody to shut the fuck up. I saw you."

For once, Imani relented. She ignored her senses and did the opposite of what she wanted to do. She gave him a nod and watched him light up with happiness again. He kissed her quickly and moved back across the kitchen. Imani felt a flicker of unease beneath her contentment. She didn’t doubt Jameson’s feelings for her, but stepping back into his world—the world they’d left behind—felt like stepping into a minefield.

For now, though, she let herself enjoy the moment. The smell of pancakes, the warmth of his presence, the quiet promise of a new beginning. Tonight could wait.

The ice in Christian’s glass clinked as he swirled his drink, leaning back in her favorite armchair as though he owned the place. Sloane resisted the urge to snap at him to sit up properly. She didn’t have time for his nonchalance -- not when his part of the plan was essential. He was supposed to sweep Imani off her feet so that Jameson would know Imani wasn't going to stay with him.

She stood by the window, her phone in one hand and a glass of wine in the other, scrolling through the endless flood of notifications. The party she was planning was shaping up to be wonderful. If she genuinely cared about it, she'd be excited but it was just a means to an end. A text message came through from a 'friend' of hers -- Pictures of Jameson and Imani in every single one: the worst one was that insufferably sweet shot of him guiding and protecting her holding hands as they made their way out LAX.

"Jameson agreed to come to the party." she said, her tone wistful and soft. "He's bringing Imani."

Christian’s own tone lacked excitement. Imani hadn't replied to his text the day before. It wasn't the best start if you were trying to romance someone but he could understand how awkward things could get when you were sitting next to an ex and texting another man. "You don't sound happy. Isn’t this what you wanted?"

Sloane turned to face him, vulnerability clear in her expression. "I'm fine. I just...He looked happy. Happier than I've seen him in months. It's hard knowing that I'm trying to change that. I'm just trying to look out for him." She wanted Jameson, yes. But she also wanted him to be happy. His relationship with Imani was toxic. She just wanted him free of it.

He snorted, shaking his head at her. "Of course," he said sarcastically, taking a sip of his drink. "You’re just looking out for him. Like always."

Sloane's jaw tightened but she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she decided to toughen up. He didn't need to hear her sob story. All he had to do was his part. Christian had a way of needling her, of making her feel like her curated control was slipping. She crossed the room and perched on the edge of the sofa, setting her phone down with deliberate precision.

"I am looking out for him. I love him. I have always loved him. I saw him before he was with her. I saw him change to be with her. Constantly twisting himself up into knots trying to be what she needed." Sloane said, her voice low and steady. “There's nothing wrong with him. He's a good man. Loving, kind, intelligent. She runs when shit gets hard. She has never held his hand through the bad times or stuck by his side. And she’ll drag him back into a depression when she leaves again. I'm trying to stop that."

Christian tilted his head, his brown eyes moving from amusement to something close to pity. "You really do think you love him, don't you?"

Nine words and it felt as if he'd slapped her in the face. She did love Jameson. She could think of no one she loved more. Why was she the only one to see it?

Sloane met his gaze head-on, her spine straight and unyielding. "I do love him. And I'm going to prove it."

Christian stared at her for a moment, taking a deep breath. Pity remained in his eyes and his voice rang hollow as he spoke -- but he nodded and relented.

"What's the plan?" "The party is the perfect opportunity to remind everyone—including Jamie—who Imani really is. The cameras will be there, the industry people. All it takes is one little push and the narrative changes. Not the loving couple who found their second chance at love. Jameson will be the spurned lover. Imani would be the evil girl who left him hanging. They won't seem inevitable to anyone paying attention." "And what��s my role in this?" "You’re the right guy to trigger a reaction out of Jameson. He doesn't like you. So get close to her. Make him doubt her. If this relationship is as fragile as I think it is, it won’t take much."

Christian stared at her for a moment, leaning back in his chair like it was the first time he'd ever seen Sloane. "Maybe you do love him. You certainly know how to hit him where it hurts."

Shame settled deep in Sloane's chest. She didn't want to hurt Jamie. The last thing she ever wanted to do was hurt Jameson and here she was -- planning a public way to do just that. She shut her eyes, reminding herself that after he and Imani were done, he'd never have to go through this again. Her gaze drifted back to the window, to the Los Angeles skyline glowing in the distance. "I'm doing what needs to be done." she murmured, almost to herself.

Behind her, Christian’s voice was a low purr. "The thing about doing what needs to be done is that it rarely ends the way you think it will, Sloane."

12 hours later...

The party was a masterpiece. Sloane stood near the grand staircase, her champagne flute balanced delicately in her hand, surveying the scene with apathy. Despite every detail being meticulously planned: the soft golden lighting, the perfectly curated guest list, the hum of conversation that never grew too loud. She wasn't interested in any of it. Sloane was waiting for Jameson's arrival. She leaned against the bannister, perched and waiting.

Her gaze swept the room, searching but she didn’t have to look long. Jameson and Imani had just arrived, their entrance turning heads as Sloane knew it would.

Imani looked polished, almost regal, in a black dress that clung to her figure, her hair swept up to perfection. Jameson, as always, exuded that effortless charm that made him impossible to ignore. And, of course, their hands were entwined, a public declaration that set Sloane’s teeth on edge.

She moved toward them, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor, her smile practiced and warm. "Jamie!,” she greeted, practically launching herself into his arms. The scent of his cologne was familiar, almost comforting and it only sharpened her resolve. He didn't let Imani's hand go but his free arm wrapped around her back to give her a tight hug. "I can't believe you disappeared off to god knows where! Poor EJ was eating lunch alone one day until I joined him..." Sloane trailed off, laughter caught in her throat as she realized Genie had shown up. Well, she hadn't counted on that. "Imani. Genie. Hi! You both look stunning. As always."

"Mhm. Thanks." Imani replied, her voice smooth but distant. Genie didn't reply at all. She gave Sloane a blank stare and then left the trio there.

It was awkward but Sloane bounced back, giving Imani and Jameson a bright smile. Her gaze dropped briefly to their joined hands before flicking back up. "I’m so glad you both could make it. Italian jetlag is no job. Even worse than the jetlag from Japan. C'mon. Some people are dying to see you, Jamie. We've all been looking for you."

As she led them further into the crowd, she kept her tone bright, but her mind was already spinning. Imani was playing the part well enough, but Sloane could see the cracks. The slightly too-tight smile, the way her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape route. She didn’t really want to be there.

Perfect.

Sloane’s eyes darted to the far corner of the room, where Christian leaned casually against the bar, his sharp suit and easy grin making him look every bit the devil she needed him to be. He caught her glance and gave a subtle nod, his cue to begin moving into position.

For now, she let Jameson and Imani settle into the party, watching as they were intercepted by a group of executives eager to schmooze with James Lucas. Half of them were all too happy to shmooze with Jamie. But Sloane noticed with satisfaction that half of them wanted to connect with Imani. Little by little, the couple began to split. They let each other's hands go and slowly drifted into mini circles of their own.

Good.

Across the room, Sloane caught sight of Genie with...EJ. They were talking casually but something in the shy smile Genie gave EJ hit Sloane in the chest. They used to be friends and she knew that meant Genie liked EJ. EJ leaned in to say something to her and Sloane watched as Genie laughed out loud. That was good too. She may not be Genie's favorite person but Sloane wanted her to find happiness.

Christian sidled up beside her, his presence surprising her. Sloane flinched before turning to glare at him. "I guess I'm up now." He didn't even wait for a response. He put his hands in his pocket and made his way toward Imani. Sloane felt a surge of anxiety in her body. The pieces were falling into place. The party hummed around her, a symphony of chatter and laughter, but she could feel the tension building beneath it.

Christian’s gaze landed on Imani from across the room, and a soft smile tugged at his lips. She looked stunning, as always. He could count on Sloane to be self-serving but he hadn't known he was capable of it until she dangled the ultimate prize right in his face. He had always wanted Imani. He saw her at a friend's party and was enchanted with the way she spoke about her music dreams. Sure enough, she chased it and there she was. A star. He wanted to bask in it with her. He thought time was on his side. That one day...they would give it a chance. But he had been wrong.

Genie was beautiful. She was lovely in all the best ways -- a genuinely good spirit -- but he hadn't wanted her. It hadn't been as Sloane said. He didn't fake date her for Imani's attention. At least not on purpose. He had let Genie pursue him though. Turning her down had proved to be difficult. For all his faults, breaking a woman's heart hadn't been something he ever wanted to do...but he had done it. Twice. The night she walked in on him and Sloane, he watched it fade from her eyes. She had held him in such high esteem and then it evaporated to nothing within an instant. He was nothing to her.

He tried to apologize so many times but Genie effectively cut he and Sloane out of her life. She hadn't told a soul as far as he knew. He had been too ashamed to pursue Imani after that. He let her slip from Jameson's hands into some damn quarterback's. And then he watched them self-destruct. He thought now he could give it a go with her. But of course -- James Lucas was proving hard to forget. Well, tonight, he was determined to remind her that she deserved more.

"Imani" he greeted warmly as he approached, his voice soft but confident.

She turned, her expression neutral but polite. "Christian."

He smiled, careful to keep his tone light. "It’s been a while. You're as radiant as ever."

"What do you want?" she asked, her words blunt but not unkind.

Christian chuckled softly. "Straight to the point. I admire that about you." He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice to make the conversation feel more personal. "I just wanted to check in. See how you’re doing."

"I'm fine." "Good. I'm glad to hear that. Especially now that you’re back with Jameson." "We're not back together." "No? That entrance made me think you guys were." "Me and Jameson are nobody's business but our own." "I completely agree. I actually came to warn you." "About?" "Sloane."

He had her full attention then. He could see it in how the tense outline of her shoulders. Her gaze shot across the room and sure enough -- Sloane was with Jameson. Laughing and talking lowly. She lifted her hand, brushing it against his forearm as he told her some story. They looked close. Intimate even.

"What about her?" "I'm sure you trust him. But life with him comes with her attached." "How you figure?" "I mean...look at them." "I don't need to. I trust him." "Good. I hope you two are everything you want to be," he said carefully. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Christian sighed, shrugging his shoulder. "Look, I’m not trying to cause trouble. I just... I know how much you’ve been through with him. And I know how close he and Sloane are." Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t interrupt. The silence stretched on for a full minute before she spoke again.

"They're friends." she said firmly, though there was a hint of doubt in her voice.

"Maybe." Christian conceded. "But I’ve seen how she looks at him, Imani. And I’ve seen how he lets her. You deserve someone who puts you first, always. Someone who makes you feel secure."

Imani’s jaw tightened, and Christian softened his tone, wanting sincerity to shine though...even if he was being deceptive. "We don't know each other well but I know Genie. It didn't end well between us. but I know you mean the world to her. I'm trying to make up for my wrongs. You deserve the world, Imani."

Imani didn’t respond, brushing past him with a mix of grace and frustration. Christian watched her go, calling out before she left earshot, "If you ever need someone to talk to -- someone who can see you above all else -- I'm here." She didn't turn around but he knew she had heard him.

From across the room, he noticed Genie watching him. Her expression was cautious, her posture tense. A man next to her took a step forward, protectively placing a hand against her arm. Christian gave her a nod in greeting before moving back into the fringes of the party.

Genie’s eyes flicked back to Imani and Christian, her stomach twisting with unease. Christian’s hand lingered too close to Imani’s arm, his smile too practiced, too deliberate. Imani seemed to pull away slightly, but the subtle shift only made the tension between them more obvious. Genie’s heart tightened, and she couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy—though she quickly brushed it aside.

She had no right to feel that way, right? Imani was her best friend, and Jameson’s girlfriend. She'd never fall for the shit Christian could spew but...but why was he so fixated on Imani? First it was Sloane and now Imani? Both her best friends...but never her.

She glanced down at her glass, her fingers tightening around it. The conversations around her seemed to fade into the background. She was so used to living in the periphery of Jameson and Imani’s relationship, always supporting them, always being the friend. But now, standing here at the edge of the party, watching Imani and Christian, Genie realized how much of her life had been spent orbiting around their drama, their needs, their world.

She had spent so much time trying to hold everything together for them—always watching, always helping, never asking for anything in return. There was a beautiful, funny man standing next to her, wanting her. She wanted him just the same but she let the insecurity about Christian make her afraid. What good was life if she didn't actually live it?

A soft chuckle broke through her thoughts, and she turned to find EJ standing nearby, a playful grin on his face. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low, though his eyes were warm with concern.

Genie hesitated, then nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Yeah, just... thinking.”

"About what?" "About the talk you wanted to have with me earlier?"

She watched his eyes go wide in surprise and couldn't help but laugh. She shyly dropped her gaze from his -- knowing that her sudden 180 had confused him but in an instant -- everything had become clear. It was scary trying to see where things go with him but she was going to do it anyway. “You want to get away from it all for a bit?”

He blinked, "What do you mean?”

Genie's grin softened, and there was something in her eyes -- something unspoken. “We could go upstairs. Get away from all the noise, have a drink, talk. Just... you and me.”

Her breath caught as she waited for his response. She’d spent so much time worrying about everyone else, about Imani and Jameson and their tangled mess of emotions. She’d spent so much time denying the way her heart fluttered every time EJ was near, pretending that the connection between them was nothing more than friendly flirtation. But maybe it was time to stop pretending.

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time tonight. The way his eyes softened when they met hers, the way his lips quirked into that familiar, teasing smile. He was there for her, in a way no one else had been.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to let herself feel something for once.

“Yeah,” he said quietly, "I think I’d like that."

She was sober. Completely sober. She'd only had a single glass of champagne but Genie couldn't explain what came over her when EJ closed the bedroom door behind them. She didn't even know whose bedroom this was! All she knew was that she decided to restart her life. She was going to start it right then. EJ lifted his gaze to her, giving that same patient and gentle grin...and Genie pulled him in for a kiss. She was all clumsy enthusiasm, making up for her impatience with the expert use of her tongue. By the time she was done with him, she was sucking on his tongue with gentle moans and she could feel him hard against her thigh. He pushed against her silk dress, hands grasping at the fabric covering her ass.

She was so caught up in kissing him that she didn't realize he had her dress raised over her hips and bunched up at the back. EJ expertly moved them until the wood of the door was pressed to her back. Genie broke the kiss in a daze, blinking back to some sense of sanity. She felt the chill of the wood against her ass, the thong she wore to avoid lines on her dress doing nothing to cover her up.

She saw in that moment that EJ was a man of precision and focus. He didn't attempt to undress her or even get himself unclothed. He simply shoved her tongue aside and delved into her wetness with his index and middle. He didn't set a brutal pace. He eased into her with care, watching as her stance widened as she tried to keep herself upright. Even the door wasn't enough support for her. "Ms. Adesanya needs some help, don't she?"

Genie whined, nodding her head. She fully expected him to hitch her leg up his waist and keep going. Instead, he dropped to his knees with ease. He placed her left leg over his shoulder and did the same with the right. It removed his fingers from her but she gave a yelp of surprise, realizing he was bearing the weight of her body on his shoulders. Genie reached out for anything, trying to grasp onto the door but it was useless. She had to put her trust into EJ. She forced herself to relax and it worked...for about five minutes. Until he put his mouth on her.

She moaned loudly, the sound echoing through the room as she fought the urge to twist her hips and grind against his face. The position meant she had to trust in him and not move too much. Her fingers found purchase in his jacket, pulling gently as she lost herself in the sensations. Every time he flicks his tongue against her sweet spot, Genie gasped. It wasn't long before he was picking up the pace, using only his tongue to get her off as his hands propped her thighs wide open.

The sound of his tongue lashing against her was joined by the sound of her getting wetter and wetter. The sound of sex filled the air, thick and heavy to the point where it felt like it'd choke her if she didn't say something. "E-EJ," she breathed out between moans, "That feels so good."

Her hips bucked wildly against him, seeking more contact with his eager mouth. He slid his tongue from her clit to between her folds, feasting on her pussy like he was a starving man who'd survived years without a meal. Her vision blurred with pleasure as she looks down at him. She couldn't close her legs around his head even if she wanted to. All she could do was take it.

Her body trembled with need as her jaw dropped. EJ focused on her clit, sucking with deep pulls. Genie couldn't speak, couldn't breathe. She simply...let it happen. She came on his face with a shudder, the ability to speak beyond her. She began to grind her pussy against her face and she felt him push himself forward, meeting every twist of her hips with eagerness. It was like he wanted her essence covering every inch of his skin. The realization made her come again. It hit her so hot and fast that she screamed his full name, becoming unbalanced. "I got you, Ms. Adesanya. I told you I had you." He whispered softly and she held those words close to her heart.

But she didn't hit the floor. EJ pulled back just enough to gently guide her down. There she lay -- on the floor or someone's bedroom, feeling delirious as a man who scared the shit out of her twelve hours ago continued to eat her out. It didn't matter that she had come twice. That damn tongue just kept lapping it all up. The more he licked at her, the more she gave him. It was neverending.

Genie hummed with happiness. EJ lifted his head to watch her. The silly little grin on her face made his dick throb but he knew this was as far as they were going to go. They had moved faster than he wanted to but he didn't turn the chance down. Sliding his fingers back into her, he kissed her thigh and tested her limits. He spent the next hour seeing what she could and couldn't take.

They didn't get up from the floor. His damn knees had started to hurt but he didn't break the spell -- even if there was a bed mere feet away.

Two fingers? Perfect. She rode em like a pro. Three? Tight fit but she took it and even squirted a bit to their surprise. Four? She came as soon as he even attempted to wedge his pinky inside of her. Direct contact with her clit? She loved it. Came within minutes. Indirect contact? She got impatient and bratty. Using his tongue? He could turn her into a grunting and gasping mess.

Never would he have thought that he could be so turned on by giving someone else nothing but attention and pleasure but there he was -- finding joy in devouring the girl he'd had a million fantasies about in a week.

Genie's back arched from the floor as he switched his attention to her clit, flicking it with his tongue in just the right way. Her thighs were wet, his face was a mess, and her moans had weakened in power. She was so lost in him that she didn't see the doorknob turn. EJ kept his attention on her, knowing whoever it was couldn't get inside. The door was locked. But Genie coasted towards yet another orgasm -- not giving a damn what was happening downstairs, who was at the door, or all the reasons this shouldn't happen. Her legs tensed and he could feel it wash over her.

"Fuck," EJ groaned against her, "Ms. Adesanya, Ms. Adesanya." Genie finally shut her thighs over his head, shaking her head. She couldn't take anymore. She flinched with her touch...even as he pulled away from her. "You can call me Genie now." She whispered to him, a blissed out grin on her face as he laughed out loud.

Jameson leaned against the bar, swirling the ice in his drink as Sloane’s laugh rang out beside him. She was recounting some ridiculous story about her latest project, her tone animated and her gestures exaggerated. The girl was a trip and he couldn't help but laugh when he was with her. They always had a good time. He chuckled absently, his eyes scanning the crowd for Imani.

"She"s probably off networking, I did see her with Christian McKay" Sloane said, following his gaze. "Don't worry so much! Or I mean...maybe she’s just avoiding us."

Jameson frowned at the mention of Christian McKay -- standing straight. He couldn't stand that bastard. But something Sloane said caused him to turn back to her. "Why would she avoid us?"

Sloane shrugged, sighing loudly. "Or maybe just me. I mean -- the mags tried to make it seem like we had something going on. Maybe she's uncomfortable with me. You don't have to worry though. I'm going to make sure she doesn't think that at all."

Jameson smiled faintly, lifting his hand to pat her shoulder in gratitude. "Thank you, Lo. I know you don't exactly approve but that means a lot to me."

Sloane's smiled up at him fondly. "I'd do anything for you, Jamie. Even if it means making nice with someone who causes stress and strife in your life."

Jameson rolled his eyes, scoffing as he dropped his hand from her shoulder. "Here we go again. I can handle Imani. I handled the drama in Italy. I can handle our relationship. Everything's fine."

Before she could respond, he saw Imani approaching and immediately perked up. Relief washed over him, her presence like a steady anchor in the chaos of the party. "Baby!" His deep voice called out as he grinned, waving her over. "C'mere!" The closer he got, the more he saw she was agitated. "What's wrong?"

She opened her mouth to speak but there was Sloane, waving her towards the bar. "She's fine. Don't be silly. Hi, Mani! So glad you could finally join us. Come. You have to have the dirty martini and tell me more about Italy. Jamie told me it was so sweet. Arguing, making up. Some would say that's the hallmark of a toxic relationship but I think that's pure romance for you two."

He saw it on her face before she even opened her mouth. She was pissed. Jameson turned to give Sloane a stare -- wondering what the fuck made her say that. "I see you been telling your lil friend everything."

Jameson's gaze shot from Sloane back to Imani and he could tell that he was in dangerous territory. "No, baby. I didn't --"

Sloane frowned, tilting her head as if she didn't understand. "Did I say something wrong? I was...just saying, it’s a shame you both went all that way just to bring your baggage with you."

"Alright, enough." Jameson said sharply, watching them both. Sloane lapsed into silence obediently but Imani didn't seem phased. She cocked her head to the side, glared at him, and then back at Sloane.

"Your friend got an issue with me or sum’n?" Imani asked, placing her hands on her hips. Attempting to hide the scowl on her face wasn’t an option anymore. She was too annoyed to try. Sloane had lapsed into silence but Jameson knew that wouldn't hold for long.

“No, baby. Why would she?” “Cause she keeps making all these snide ass remarks. I know you heard ‘em, Jameson.” “That’s just how she jokes, babe. She’s just playing around.” “Well you need to tell her that I don’t play like that 'cause she got one more time.”

He felt it spark something in Sloane. She put her glass down on the bar and took a step forward. Jameson immediately wedged himself between the two of them. he didn't know who the fuck Sloane thought she was fooling. she knew damn well she couldn't fight...but he knew Imani could. He knew she'd drag across the floor so good that her Prada pumps would snap in two. He had to figure out how to de-escalate the situation.

"I don't know what's going on with you, Imani." Sloane told her from behind Jameson but he saw her pop her head around his frame. "But I won't tolerate being disrespected at my own event."

People had started to turn and pay attention and slowly, you could hear a pin drop throughout the event. "Why the hell are ya'll putting me in this position?" he muttered to them both as Imani tried to sidestep him.

Imani's head cocked to the side. She looked at Jameson like he morphed into a mythical creature. “In this position? I don’t have no issues with her. She’s the one walkin’ around here like I’m fucking her man or something.”

Jameson frowned, “Cut that shit out. Sloane and I are just friends. Everybody knows that but you."

Imani rolled her eyes in that way he hated. “Are you sure she knows that? Have you seen the way she looks at you? That bitch is in love with you! Everybody sees it but you!” she sighed, wishing she could exhale the tension from her body as well. “I can’t say I blame her delusional ass though. I mean, look at how affectionate you are with her.”

"Hold on. How the fuck did this become my fault?" he retorted. "Because she's your problem. I bet if you walked up to that bitch right now and kissed her, she’ll let you.” "Would you just let it go? And stop calling her a bitch. I don’t know why you act like this over her. All I want is you!" “Well act like it then! Stop being all over her all the fuckin’ time. Then maybe she won’t get the wrong idea and --” “She knows we’re just friends! You’re the only one not seeing that. I’m not switching up how i act with my friend just because you made up a scenario in your head!" “Ohhhhh now I’m making up shit in my head? Go to hell, Jameson! I knew I shouldn’t have came to this dumb ass party! You want her here to just stroke your ego? Aight, bet!”

She turned away from him and he felt Sloane relax behind him, her hands grasping his shirt and forearm. As Imani made her exit, Sloane held him back. He immediately snatched away, upset at the turn things had taken. "Why the fuck did you antagonize her?" He rounded on Sloane with wide eyes.

Her lower lip quivered as she shook her head quickly. "I didn't mean to! You heard her being nasty to me. It's not my fault you care about me too. What does she want you to do? Abandon everyone but her?"

He clenched his jaw, words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. Jameson couldn't find it in himself to refute her claims. All he wanted to do was get to Imani. He shook his head and moved away from Sloane, quickly following Imani's steps out of the party -- to the amazed faces of partygoers. He could only imagine the fucking headlines tomorrow.

“Imani! Imani!”

She rolled her eyes, knowing exactly who it was. She didn’t bother to turn around. She busied herself with her phone instead, looking for a ride to get the hell away from there. She refused to put herself at risk for Jameson only to get disregarded for a bitch that he didn't even realize loved him.

“What do you want? Don’t you have a girlfriend to attend to?” she snapped. “I’m attending to her right now.”

She shook her head, normally charmed by his antics, but right now? She didn’t find anything he said to be amusing. “I’m not a second fiddle bitch, Jameson. You gone have to make a choice. It’s me or her.”

His eyes went wide and she knew he was either in shock or pissed. She didn't like either option. “Do you hear yourself right now? Are you really gonna make me choose between you and my childhood friend? That’s ridiculous, Imani.”

“That’s not your friend, Jameson! She’s a bitch. She's obsessed with you but you too blind to fuckin’ to see it cause you like that shit deep down.”

"So now Sloane is obsessed and I secretly like it? You don't hear the ridiculous shit coming out of your mouth?"

She scoffed, “Oh now I’m being ridiculous? Fuck you and that bitch, Jamie. Go back to her party and be with her.”

“I don’t want her! I want you.” "Like I said, it’s me or her.” “I'm not doing that, Mani. You’re not going to make me choose between you or my friend.” “Sounds like you made your choice to me, Jamie. Go marry her and have some light-eyed ass kids!” she said. “Have a nice life and leave me the fuck alone.”

Jameson took a deep breath and Imani knew he was searching for patience or some kind of reply. She didn't give a fuck what he had to say about anything anymore. She gave him the choice and the answer hadn't been her.

"Baby, this isn't fair. And it is ridiculous. I'm not giving up on us. I never will. But i want you to be clear -- it's you walking away. Again. Like you always do."

She laughed, shaking her head. "No, it's you, Jamie. You refuse to set boundaries between you and -- that girl. I like threesomes, but I'm not into polyamorous relationships so y'all have fun."

Sadness set into his expression and she knew she had to stay strong. It was like she told him in Italy -- a fuck ass speech wouldn't always fix things between them. He couldn't smooth over his mistakes with love or charm or sex. Not this time. "It's always only been you. You know that," he said softly. "She doesn't factor into our relationship. Never has. So why are we doing this? Why is this happening, Mani?"

Imani quirked a brow at him, tilting her head. "Does she know that? No. But i can't blame her. She gets you without the headaches. Without the fights. So y'all have at it."

Jameson frowned. "She gets a friend. You got my heart, Imani. Why is that never good enough for you?"

She shook her head, "It's not enough because you act like she got a piece of that shit too, Jamie! You can say you don't but why else would Sloane act the way she does?"

He huffed with frustration, moving away from Imani as he paced. He was getting angry and was doing his best not to show it. "I told you about her life. She doesn't have anybody but me and Genie. Just me now. I can't abandon her. I don't want to, Imani."

They just kept talking in circles. She knew they would never get anywhere. Imani put her hand up, shaking her head. "I told you. You gone have to choose. Me or her." The sleek Mercedes she'd requested to pick her up pulled to a stop at the sidewalk and Imani gave Jameson one last look before climbing inside. He looked so damn defeated that she didn't know what to do with herself. She chose to remain strong. She picked herself first over the stress and chaos that came with being with Jameson...and she didn't think there was anything he could say to change her mind.

[anonymous-dentist]

Part two of the Catboy in the Village AU

-

Cellbit wakes up handcuffed, which really doesn't bode well.

He's... moving. He's sitting up with his head pillowed on something soft, yet firm, and he's moving.

Ah. So he has been kidnapped, then. Great.

Groaning, Cellbit hides his face in his pillow's shoulder, confident that he isn't sticking his face anywhere it shouldn't be. He knows this shoulder, it's one of his favorites.

"Buenos días, gatinho," Roier warmly says. A kiss lands itself in Cellbit's hair right between his ears.

Cellbit fights the urge to purr (not now!), and he murmurs, "Am I going to be angry when I open my eyes?"

"Mmm, probably."

Cellbit sighs. So it's like that, then.

Eyes still closed, he pricks his ears up and tries to take in his environment. Horses, someone guiding them. Wheels noisily turning. Roier breathing, Cellbit himself breathing, someone else breathing. Three people total in the carriage- because they have to be in one, Cellbit doubts a supposed "prince" would be left to travel in a simple wagon.

Absolutely no signs of Richarlyson and Pepito. No arguing, no crying, no complaining. Nothing.

Slowly, Cellbit lets out a breath. He's calm.

"Roier," he asks, "where are our children?"

Roier stiffens minutely beneath him. "Um."

"Your children are fine," someone else says, and, ah, it would be her, wouldn't it?

Cellbit swallows his anger. He's calm.

He sits up, scooting closer to Roier so their arms are brushing because he is not about to be away from him right now. He opens his eyes, and he stares at the woman who has to be the newly-crowned Queen of the Gato Kingdom, and he hates.

"Your highness," he coolly says. "Where the fuck are my children?"

The queen's eyebrow twitches. "Don't call me that."

"Your highness. My children?"

"Not... with us at the moment, but I have my finest knights searching for them as we speak. Once we find them-"

She screeches as Cellbit lunges at her with his fangs bared. He can't use his hands, but that's fine, he was in prison once, he knows how to tear a throat out without using his claws.

He "oof"s as he's swiftly kicked in the chest by a heeled shoe and shoved back into his seat opposite the queen.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the queen demands.

Cellbit answers her with a snarl and a second attempt at political assassination. This time, though, he's stopped by Roier, who grabs him around the middle with both arms and pulls him to his chest.

Immediately, Cellbit feels his body relax. Damnit.

"I told you you'd be angry," Roier hums.

He slips a hand under Cellbit's shirt and just leaves it splayed across his stomach. The queen looks mildly disturbed. What, is she homophobic, too? Rich and homophobic? Pick a struggle.

"Of course I'm angry," Cellbit sneers. He glares at the queen, who glares right back. "We've been kidnapped."

The queen rolls her eyes. "You aren't being kidnapped. You are being escorted."

"In handcuffs!"

"Yeah!" Roier agrees. "Only I can put my husband in handcuffs!"

The queen's face goes mildly green. Oh, so she is homophobic. Great.

Cellbit, though, groans and slams his head against Roier's shoulder. Roier just grins at him, the piece of shit.

"Well," the queen hesitantly says, "it was either this or ropes."

Roier protests, "Only I can put my husband in ro-"

He cuts himself off with a moan as Cellbit pinches his thigh.

"Cállate," Cellbit huffs. "She doesn't need to know."

"I really don't," the queen agrees, complete with a nod of the head. "You're my brother, I don't want or need to be hearing any of this."

(Not that the 'any of this' is real. The most extreme thing Cellbit and Roier have done in bed is play board games and lose the pieces in their blankets, but it's just so fun to make people uncomfortable.)

"I'm not," Cellbit tells her.

He tilts his head back and looks up at Roier. "Did you know that she thinks I'm the missing Gato Kingdom prince?"

Roier laughs. "What, really? You?"

Cellbit smiles. "I know, right?"

"I'm right here," the queen flatly says. "And you are my brother. His name is Cellbit, your name is Cellbit. You have feline features. Only members of-"

Cellbit finishes her sentence for her: "-the Gato royal family are cat hybrids. I know. But you're wrong."

The queen crosses her arms and her legs, her foot bouncing impatiently on the floor.

"Oh, yeah?" she asks. "How?"

"Because," Cellbit simply says.

Nothing else.

Roier snorts. He adjusts his hold on Cellbit, halfway pulling him onto his lap and hooking his chin over Cellbit's shoulder.

Cellbit looks down at Roier's very un-handcuffed hands and pouts.

"Why aren't you restrained?" he complains.

"Because I haven't tried to kill the queen," Roier smugly says. He pokes Cellbit's nose, making Cellbit go cross-eyed. "This is what you get, pendejo."

"Fuck you," Cellbit grumbles. "You didn't try to fight her a little? For me?"

"Nah. I killed all her knights, though."

Gods.

Cellbit's eyes practically glitter. "Wow. I bet you got real sweaty."

Roier nods. "And I took my shirt off."

Gods!!

Cellbit turns to glare at the queen. "You made me miss that!"

The queen's mouth opens in shock. "You tried stabbing me!"

"And you kidnapped me! I think stabbing you would've been worth it!"

"Calma, gatinho," Roier lightly says. He slips his other hand under Cellbit's shirt; his two hands link together, his thumb rubbing soothing little circles above Cellbit's bellybutton. "Don't threaten royalty when I don't have my sword."

"You aren't being kidnapped!" the queen shouts. "This could've gone a lot easier if you had just come with me to begin with!"

"And why the fuck would I do that?" Cellbit sneers.

"Because I'm your sister, idiot!"

"I'm an orphan, idiot!"

The queen bodily flinches, recoiling into the back of her seat with wide eyes and a trembling mouth.

Sensing a tense moment, Roier takes the opportunity to say, "You know, maybe he isn't your brother. Maybe I'm your brother, hm? Maybe my ears fell off in the war."

It's just the kind of statement that would blow Pepito's mind. Pepito, oh, Pepito...

Cellbit wants his kids.

The queen ignores Roier. She continues staring at Cellbit, instead.

"What happened to you?" she asks, voice hoarse.

Cellbit gives her a flat look in response. "What hasn't. I'm not who you think I am. I'm... me. You have the wrong guy."

He twists his wrists in his handcuffs. They're simple enough...

"This really isn't a good first impression," Roier adds.

As Roier continues speaking, Cellbit pops his thumb out of its socket and starts subtly pulling his hand through the cuff.

Roier says, "Like, I get you wanted to see him, but this is kinda fucked, you know? You couldn't have sent a letter? We could have had brunch, but, noooooo, you just had to show up like this and freak him out."

"I'm not freaked out," Cellbit grumbles.

(And now the other hand...)

"I didn't want it to be this way," the queen says. She looks painedly at Cellbit. "It's- I- we need you back, Cellbit. Our parents- the king and queen are both dead. You promised that you would help me when I took the throne. I've been looking for you for years, and-"

"Okay," Roier interrupts. "See? Talking's good. Gatinho, do you have anything to say?"

"Yeah," Cellbit replies. He looks at the queen, and he says, "Guapito, hold on."

He sticks his tongue out at the queen (childish, maybe, but she's pissing him off), and he slams himself against the carriage door.

And... nothing happens.

He smacks his head, and he sees stars, and he falls backwards onto the carriage's floor with a pained grunt.

The queen gives him a mocking look. "What, you didn't think I would lock the door? You really are my brother, dumbass. You haven't changed a bit."

Roier, at least, looks somewhat pitying.

"That would've been cool if it had worked?" he tries.

Cellbit just groans in response and drops his head back down onto the floor.

He used to be an escape artist. And now he's trapped in a carriage with an insane woman.

"Sit tight," the queen says, settling back into her seat and making sure to kick Cellbit in the side as she does so. "It's a long trip back to the castle."

"If I don't see my children when we're there, I'll actually kill you," Cellbit threatens.

Her lips quirk into a smirk. "You can try."

And he hates her.

[wannaeatramyeon]

Goo Kim x Reader: Dating (feat. Gun)

G/N. Requested. Fluff

"Who is this mysterious sexy man?" Goo chuckles, "It's ME!"

He thrusts the trashy tabloid in Gun's face. That ridiculous headline and Goo's mug plastered on the front page, arm around one of the most sought after K-Pop idols.

Mysterious? Sexy?

Gun peers at the photo and thinks that Goo looks like how he always does.

An idiot.

Lips stretched into an open mouthed grin. Eyes crinkled. Hideously garish suit. Stupid bleached hair.

Some of his meagre charm must be doing something though, because the idol's smile reflects his. A touch more sane, a lot more sincere, and very much besotted if the way they're looking at the blonde is anything to go by.

"They're boring though," Goo leans back, studies the idol's face that he is casually bedding and dismisses them.

One word, cutting and cruel: "Next."

.

.

"Either answer it, or turn it off."

"Nope!"

Gun glares at him. The phone continues to vibrate, buzzing noisily on the table.

It stops.

For now-

One..

Two...

Three...

And like clockwork-

It starts ringing again.

Just like it has done for the last ten minutes.

Fuck this. Gun grabs the device and hurls it onto the floor. It smashes with excessive force, a complete overkill, into the marble tiles.

The screen cracks, flashes, then dies.

"You're doing me a favour," Goo taps his long fingers against the table, unconcerned and disinterested, peering out the window, "They were getting clingy."

They being the supermodel that walked the Paris runway last week. Graced the front cover of the September Issue the week before.

It didn't matter.

His interest putters out like it always does. Goo is done with them.

.

.

"Ewwwww, tasteless!"

Gun catches a glimpse of a suit nestled in a gift box, logos of one of the most expensive and exclusive fashion houses adorn the tissue paper.

"Throw it away! Trash it!" Goo instructs and the HNH assistant scurries away.

"Ugh," The blonde pulls a face, as if the lingering presence of the ugly garment is still offending his delicate sensibilities.

Grabs his phone (new and top of the line) out of his pocket and makes a show of blocking someone.

He throws his arm around Gun's shoulder.

"You'd think a chaebol heir-" Stressing chaebol and heir with a smug waggle of the eyebrows, "-would have better taste. I can't be with someone with such awful style!"

Gun pushes him away, "I don't care. Shut up."

.

.

Goo has a new obsession.

Used to let his phone ring out. Used to ghost people for days, weeks, months, before reaching out again. (If he does reach out, that is.) Relish in playing mind games and gaslighting.

Now he picks up after the second ring. Murmurs, voice cooing and sickly sweet, into his phone.

Excuses himself "I have to take this," and walks out of meetings with Charles Choi and the HNH board.

Is unavailable on weekends and evenings. Snaps "I'm busy," when Gun offers the moneymaker a chance to make more money.

Then the new obsession turns into an ongoing obsession.

.

.

Your name flashes on Goo's phone screen.

Your name is one that Gun has, against his will, grown familiar with.

He has heard more than his fair share of your interests and hobbies. How great you are, how talented, how wonderful. The way your hair gleams in the light, how your eyes sparkle when you laugh. How you always beat Goo in games, "Y/N must be cheating!" he would screech.

And, according to Goo, has the most deliciously mean sense of humour. "You could never be as funny as Y/N." Goo sneers, as if it was a competition. As if Gun ever wanted to be seen as funny. Or to make Goo fucking Kim laugh.

Gun couldn't give a shit. Gun couldn't care less. But since when did Goo care what Gun thinks.

So Goo rambles, voice rushed and excited, telling him everything about you even when Gun tells him to shut the fuck up and tries to uppercut him on the jaw.

.

.

"You're getting too attached." Gun tells him one day. Not that Gun cares, but Goo Kim happy is insufferable.

He expects a glare, an insult. Eyes narrowed behind glasses and venom.

Goo's response surprises him. Gun never expected this.

A shrug and a lopsided smile. Goo is resigned to his fate. "Yeah," he agrees.

He knows he is too attached to you, and he has no intention of ever changing that.

[sevenop]

Billie Eilish x Fem!reader: But I already have love in LA

A/n: 5,692 milli is the distance between calm nighttime Paris and sweltering Los Angeles, which almost makes Eilish howl like a wolf. A Paris promo in honor of the album mercilessly separates the two of you on an important date, but you find a way out.

Billie's point of view. 'Cause I like it.

"The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable, please call back later," is the peremptory verdict unchanged over these endless eight hours, echoing coldly from a woman's voice on the other side of the handset. Not the voice I want to hear so much, not the timbre that makes my heart flutter so incredibly, as if it were your most expensive wind-up toy. Not your voice, absolutely not. You don't get in touch for such an ungodly long time, and I just diligently shut up the feeling of anxiety devouring from within throughout the day: a dark woolly monster grins hungrily with its wide mouth, loudly clicking its massive, fanged jaw. Each click is a new, painstakingly detailed picture in my head, causing hot anxiety. What if you're really lying helplessly on the hot as hell asphalt of LA, caught under the spiked wheels that tried to slow down with a soul-shattering screech? I know how hurried you are. What if you turned into a disadvantaged area, taking a shortcut, and now your lifeless body is lying in the nearest ditch, turning paler and colder by the minute? What if you just stopped breathing in your sleep for no reason?...

I take a deep breath, and the chains behind the monster immediately tighten with the deafening clang of massive links: it leaps, wanting to grab at me with its clawed paws, to pull me into the viscous pools of panic, but it still can't reach me. With a menacing guttural growl, its fangs gleam faintly in the semi-darkness, covered in viscous saliva. It's actually easier to contain my anxiety when my head is full of thoughts about the shoot, about the phrases I have to elegantly slip into the interviewers, turning their question marks into confident dots. It's easier when you're surrounded by a horde of people: security, staff, family. But when I'm in the silence of an insanely expensive French hotel, drowning in the uncompromising gloss of the surroundings, still perfectly styled and dressed in expensive dark clothes, coming straight from the shoot, nervous and clutching my phone in my hands with hope - it all becomes so impossible.

I'm dialing twelve digits again, just a little more and I'll be able to dial your number blind. "The person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable, please call back later." I lean back noisily on the cold silk of the sheets while that toothy, infinitely dark ball of anxiety laughs snidely. I check all the messengers, only to fling my phone away in a brief flash of anger somewhere upward, toward the ruched beige pillows: you still haven't been online in eleven hours, my messages unanswered. Fuck! It's becoming more and more like Jenga, where with each passing hour I take one wooden brick out of the structure and put it on top, making it even more rickety than before. Indeed, something has definitely happened, you couldn't just disappear from everyone's radar for no good reason, especially when today is our little celebration of a month-long relationship. There's five thousand six hundred and ninety-two miles between us, and the silence on the wire makes me want to howl. God, I'm going to go crazy...

Beep! It sounded like someone had thrown a grenade with the pin pulled right under the bed. I reacted immediately, but on the desplay is just a message from Fin in an endless string of unnecessary things. Well, better than nothing. Better than drowning in madness alone.

"Are you asleep?"

"No." How the fuck can I, bro?

"She still hasn't responded?"

"No."

The three dots bounce around again as my brother puts the right letters into words. Maybe I should call you again.

"Can you open the hotel room door right now?"

The restless gears in my head rumble to a grinding halt. Now? For what?

"For what?"

"Just open it, sis." - so unobtrusive and unexplanatory, followed by another gray block of letters: "You'll thank me later :)"

"Don't smile at me."

":)" - naturally, a smile. Damn Finn.

I dial you again and reluctantly get out of bed, shuffling my feet as if I were going to the lacquered scaffold under the shouts and whistles of the French Revolution crowd, but in fact only the thin tulle is swaying in the night wind, and the noise of rare cars, which enters the room so valiantly with the help of the open balcony. And here is the guillotine itself in the form of an oak door. I touch the gilded cold handle with the palm of my hand with pressure, and feel the massive blade whistling as it flies straight at my neck, severing my head. You're standing in front of me.

You look me in the eye and leisurely take the phone out of the pocket of your wide bard palazzo pants. Your accurate fingers finally touch the ill-fated green answer button before you bring the display to your ear. There's a slight, confused smirk on your lips, and on my end of the line there's finally the beeps and this mechanical female voice have finally died down. But it is still impossible to answer you, I can only stare at you in disbelief, as if you were a masterpiece that had escaped from the Louvre and had personally come to my doorstep.

"Bonsoir, Madame Eilish," your soft, purring timbre mightily shatters all anxiety, defeating the monster in my head. The only thing left were the massive chains of patience and self-control that held it back. You say what I've been longing to hear for these fucking eleven hours. You sound the way you've imprinted on my memory for the many hours we've spent together. - "A special gift exclusively for number one hundred and eleven."

I grab you into my hage, pulling you into the room in a flash. The door slams too loudly for midnight, but I don't care, you gasp, rustling a small package - I don't care, you babbling a hundred apologies for this frightening silence - I also don't care, girl. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care! I just leave a lot of barely visible lip gloss prints on your face, showering you with hot kisses, clinging to your lips with mutual hunger, making you almost choke, but I don't care! You don't pull away, just squeeze tighter, sliding down the wall a little. You're here right now, and the rest of it doesn't matter. And how can I take offense at you, when you have overcome five thousand six hundred and ninety-two miles...? At least not right now.

We calm down only when we reach the floor and settle down on the soft pile of the carpet. Your face now gleams beautifully in the warm light of the bedside lamp, your hair slightly ruffled either from my hands or the wind outside.

"I'm sorry." - You gulp in air with your mouth and repeat again, touching my cheek gently as if I were fragile Chinese porcelain.

"I almost lost my mind, Y/n." - I snuggle closer into your palm, finding the needed reassurance finally. - "But I'm so glad you're here now, my dumbass."

You chuckle lightly before rising to your feet in one merged motion, then gallantly offering your hand to me. My gaze first clings to the not-so-little bard stain spilling over the once flawless whiteness of your favorite shirt.

"What's this?"

"It's wine," you answer innocently as we walk to the back of the room, me holding your hand and intertwining our fingers, you holding the paper bag in front of you in your free left. - "I thought it unseemly to show up on a deep Parisian night and on our little holiday without a present. While we were choosing a variety with a nice elderly sommelier, he accidentally spilled some on me, for which he apologized for an extremely long time and stuffed a whole assortment of vegan sweets into the gift."

"Actually, it looks pretty good," I touch my hands to the damaged fabric where the wine petals had opened exactly opposite the heart. - "It looks like a flower, and it goes well with the pants."

"I told him the same thing, only in broken French!" - you laugh, sitting down on the bed. The package drops to the floor for nothing, revealing a dark bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, a corkscrew, and a dark blue box of obviously not cheap candy. - "Got a cup of any kind?"

"Only if it's cup after some coffee," the porcelain taps lightly as I hand you the cup along with the saucer that was on the bedside table. Drinking coffee at night is a little professional whim.

The cork easily yields to you under the spiraled steel of the corkscrew, so the generous scarlet stream quickly fills the porcelain cup almost to the brim, cleverly masking the coffee ring, which has already managed to imprint on the white dishes. You carefully pass the cup back to me, giving me the honorable right of the first sip. You already have a chocolate candy hiding behind your cheek. Sweet tooth.

You ask me about the past day, listening with incorruptible interest, you ask about the progress of the promo, about my dreams, I listening about your flight, about our first meeting, about Paris at night. We just talk about everything that comes into our heads, while the candy slowly runs out and the scarlet column of alcohol reaches the glass bottom of the bottle, and the bottle becomes more transparent than before in the weak light.

"You look ravishing, did I mention?" - My throat burns a little with the slight spice mixed with the flavor of currants and cherries, and your careful and transfixed gaze, albeit slightly cloudy from the wine, pleasantly burns my heart. - "Although, you absolutely always have that."

And I see you blush and your lips bend into a pleasant smile. When you're drunk, you're so sweetly embarrassed every time, like the word compliments are received by you, not me. Insanely nice. Insanely beautiful.

"Merci beaucoup, L'amour de ma vie." - in sweet, purring French, because you are a total provocation today, presented so elegantly and unobtrusively that I can't think of anything else. The chiseled collarbones are not only hidden under the thin fabric of the branded shirt, but also topped with a weighty gold chain. I catch myself thinking that you remind me of exactly this wine in the porcelain of the cup, which I want to sip leisurely, enjoying it alone. To taste you on my tongue is much more desirable than that cedar-currant flavor in the cup.

The bottle is almost empty, and you will soon begin to look like this pink wine stain blooming on your shirt. You giggle, shifting your gaze in embarrassment to the rich black lacquered wood that elegantly fills the bedroom space.

"Wow, is that a piano?" - so childishly naive, just to avoid my gaze. Gently I place the cup in your palms and then touch your chin with my fingers, turning you straight toward me. - "it's beautiful."

Along with the alcohol and fever rushing through my arteries, an absurd idea popped into my head, and it was an original sin not to realize it. I lean closer, deliberately slowly, though the knot of heat has tightened quite a bit. I like getting you so hot, Y/n, you'd know.

"It's beautiful, but it's only missing your nakedness," a languid whisper in your ear and you're already burning like a match. It's gorgeous. - "Shall we fix it?"

And you nod so obediently that even an expensive room in the best hotel in France and the same expensive wine are nothing compared to this one gesture. This will be the first time for you, the first time for the two of us, and believe me, I'll do everything I can to make sure that it goes well. I won't disappoint you, because all I really want is to drown you in a sea of pleasure. Think of it as my little gift to honor our date, like this wine.

×××

You moan so sweetly, and the only thing I really want right now is to seal your voice in a bottle so that I can open it later at any opportunity when you're not around again. You rest both palms against the shiny black lacquer on the closed top of the grand piano, standing with your back to the most elegant instrument and your face to me. You're standing completely naked, just a pile of clothes under your feet, and I'm already face between your thighs, kneeling. You grip the fabric of my black cardigan with trembling fingers, and like a whimpering child, you pull it on yourself. And it's so exciting to fulfill your little whims, knowing that it's still going to be the way I want it. I throw the dark, soft cotton off of me - a "storm cloud" glistens and shimmers slightly in the light of one dim lamp before falling to the carpet with the rest of my clothes. I'm completely naked now, too. Your lustful eyes dance on the ink of my tattoos, as if not knowing where to stop.

"Do you like the view too much, my girl?" - a grin, and you look away a little in renewed embarrassment. I touch your beautiful thigh, stroking it. "Hey, I like it when you watch."

And you watch again, only now you're looking clearly into my eyes, looking into the depths of my abysses, which for you alone are ready to serve not as destruction but as an unbreakable refuge. Your gaze is so focused, as if you want to dive in headfirst into my seas.

"I just... I just like absolutely everything, and I really don't know where to stop."

"So look, you can even touch me, as much as you want and wherever you want. You're allowed, Y/n." - I rise from my knees to push the banquette back to the piano again and sit down. - "Just for you."

And you explore, touching my skin with a gentle that the most distinguished musicians of classical orchestras will envy. Your hands outline my hips, my waist. You cling to my ribs with your fingers, then you stroke my shoulders and arms. I see a spark of delight in your eyes when you feel how the muscles are easily felt under the alabaster of my skin, while you reach to the very tips of my fingers, interlacing one hand in a lock with yours. Your other hand touches my chest, alternately slightly squeezing each one, and frankly speaking, it becomes infinitely difficult to breathe evenly. The same your hand slides over the stomach, heading to the bottom with like a sharpened arrow. Oh, my Goodness...

"Does that feel good?" - you whisper, touching two fingers to my clit with light pressure, alternating with circular motions. It feels good. Crazy.

So much so that all the words suddenly disappear from my head and stick in my throat in broken syllables, unwilling to form into something intelligible. I had to make an effort not to just nod like a silly dummy, chiseling out a single: "good."

You smile, feeling a gradual confidence, as if you're finally stepping on solid ground after the weightlessness of space, having been successfully rehabilitated. And I finally realize I don't have to hold back anymore. I can pull you close to me, rewarding you with a dozen deep, hot kisses, I can marked you with a bright hickeys on your neck, I can pick you up under your hips and lay you top of the piano cover with your shoulder blades, under which steel strings are silently stretched. While you're trapped in a haze of excitement, I can trace a path with my tongue and lips from your breasts to the bottom of your belly, where everything is burning Vesuvius flame. I can, I can, I can...

"It's so romantic in Paris, isn't it? Won't even try to compare it, it's all love everywhere." - I make the first quick stroke of my tongue and then pull away, hovering over your face again. You barely keep the back of your head from banging against the wooden lid, arching your back in longing. Who says I forgot to get back at you for my nerves?

"I don't know, I guess, but I already have love in LA." - You exhale so hotly, but you endure stoically. You realize you deserve it, yes. - "And I don't need anyone else."

My own heart begs for mercy on your account with a solid thump against my sternum, and I'm back down in a flash, repeating the strokes again, playing with your folds to the accompaniment of your moans. You're delicious.

And when you thrust yourself on my fingers so obediently, waiting for the denouement, which burns you to the point of shaking, and then you spur me with my back to the lid, hovering over me with intermittent heavy breathing, but with such selfless love in your eyes; when you enter me with two fingers sharply, but so necessary and precise, easily beating out moan after moan from my lungs and ligaments, that I really realize how suitable an instrument like a piano is for you.

I realize that I also definitely already have love in LA, in the form of you.

[xamaxenta]

Marco having a jar of candy or a bowl of sweets in his office, as a treat for sitting through the nerve wracking process of seeing the doctor

Ace however helps himself whenever he sees fit

Saunters right on in and sticks his dirty mitts in the candy bowl, pops a hard boiled candy between his teeth and grins at Marco before crushing it with a snap of his jaw

Marco doesnt give him much reaction, lest he provoke further bad behaviour

If Ace is looking to persuade a rise from him, he wont find it here

Until the sweet jar gets refilled with lollipops, round cherry flavoured suckers and Ace incinerates the wrapping with a cheery hum and sticks the candy into his mouth, situating it along his left cheek whilst he makes himself comfortable on Marco’s nice chaise, for patients

Hes waiting

Marco likes the game but is vaguely infuriated at how intent Ace seems to be on winning, if he wanted something he wouldve asked by now, theyre well enough into their relationship to have that kind of ease

“Dont you have work to be getting on with?” Marco asks, terser than he wouldve liked to admit

Doesnt look over when Ace pulls the lollipop out from between his lips with a wet slick pop, the sound may as well have echoed within the confined space of the infirmary

“Yea.” Ace affirms, hard hot molten candy clicking against the enamel of his teeth as he leisurely enjoys his stolen treat, “Im on break though.”

Marco cant argue with that, breaks were important after all.

“When’s the last time you moved?” Ace speaks up before Marco can put voice to any of his further thoughts.

He hesitates, caught out by the question, “about an hour ago.”

“Youre a shitty liar.”

For some reason the instantaneous response prickles at Marco’s skin in a manner he didnt have time to unpick just yet, all he knows is Ace can read him, better than anticipated and he’s unsure about if he likes that or not.

“And you are being a disruption.”

“Since when has that ever bothered you.” Ace retorts, sucking noisily on his candy.

“Since today, I’d say I’m a little bothered yes.” Marco recognises his migraines, his phoenix will only suppress so much and he’s worried about the dual flu season incoming, theres been a shortage on the vaccine supply making it incredibly difficult for Marco to source any from a neutral vendor.

Ace kicks his desk.

Marco jumps and shoots the logia a warning glance.

Ace ignores this and kicks his chair instead. And then proceeds to blink and twirl the stick of his dwindling lollipop between his teeth, lips stained dark red from the dyed sugar.

“Ace.” Marco warns, exasperated and not in the mood to play whatever game he was after.

“Are you sufficiently bothered yet?” Ace ignores him again.

Marco frowns, sets down his pen. Ace raises his leg again, foot poised. Marco thinks he looks ridiculous like this, half reclined with his legs spread open like a—

For fucks sake.

Ace kicks out again with intent and Marco catches him by the ankle, grasping him in full and yanking him in, the legs of the chaise screeching along the floor as Ace takes the furniture with him lest he fall off.

Marco glances between the spread of his legs to the dark sugar red of Ace’s mouth, the brazen look in his eyes and back to the heave of his ribcage, surprise shorting out his breathing into something fluttery and new

The phoenix recognises trapped prey and Marco allows her to clip instinct over his humanity

“And you thought seducing me was the best course of action.”

Its rhetorical

It worked

They both know it did

Ace grins, crunches down on his treat and spits out the little plastic stick to claim his prize

Kissing Marco tastes like cherries and salt and something they’d both like to surmise is due to their devil fruits, bitter and astringent, ozone if it could be tasted, fire if it could be anything other than spicy

“Mm, so are you bothered yet cuz you kinda feel—“ Ace mumbles over the press of Marco’s lips to his own, Marco bites at his lip

“Shut up.”

[featheredclover]

Presenting September Rain !

Inspired by the moodboard created by @arshifiesta

Also on Wattpad

Prologue

Chapter One>>

Tiny sniffles filled the car as the Guptas drove in the valleys of Uttarakhand.

“Khushi “ Garima began gently,” It’s going to be okay! Nani had her schooling here, and so did I . Payal is here with you too”

From the corner of her eyes, she saw her sister roll her eyes. 

“She’s just being dramatic, mom. I didn’t shed a tear when I was 11”

“That’s because you were happy to get away from me!” Khushi screeched.

“Khushi “ Shashi admonished.

“You’ll be fine beta. They will all be your age. All in the same boat. And oh! The memories you’ll make!”

She blew her nose noisily in her pristine white handkerchief, and grumpily looked out of the window.

The imposing building came into view.

Woodsmith School

The bane of her existence. Her family’s tradition. How will she ever survive?

—————

She looked around at the other children.

I am wearing the same thing, yet they look so smart, she whined in her head.

“Cheer up cry baby, this is not the end of the world” Payal said with a sharp nudge.

“In fact, this is the beginning!”

Khushi looked up to see a tall bespectacled boy walking towards them.

“Oh hi Akash!” 

She narrowed her eyes at her sister’s sudden change of voice.

“Hi Payal. God, I missed you!” 

Khushi gasped as the boy kissed her sister’s cheek.

Payal stiffened as she became conscious of Khushi.

“Well Akash , meet my baby sister Khushi. She is beginning today,”

“Hello,” she said in a small voice.

Akash bent down to meet her eye, his eyes crinkling with kindness.

“Hi Khushi! Welcome to woodsmith! You’ll have a great time here, even though now it will seem a bit daunting.”

Khushi nodded.

“Here, my brother is in your year too. Arnav, say hi !” 

Khushi looked up at the young boy she hadn’t noticed till now.

Caramel chocolate, she thought as his eyes met hers.

He looked so much at ease, Khushi couldn’t imagine it being his first day too.

“Hi, Khushi “

“Hi” she swallowed nervously.

“Khushi” Payal said impatiently, “We need to go right now, Akash is the school captain! I’ll see you at recess okay?”

“Don’t be a cry baby” she hurriedly whispered into her ear.

Khushi looked on as her sister sauntered off with her boyfriend.

“I don’t think you are a cry baby”

She looked back at Arnav, who seemed so much wiser than her, she almost felt jealous.

“You don’t?” She asked, her eyes wide, seeking reassurance.

“Nope! Now, come on, let's go. They have a morning assembly every day.”

He said, his hands resting in his pockets.

Khushi hurried behind him, suddenly the thought of boarding school was not so scary anymore.

———

She sidled up beside Arnav, as scary adults lined them up. Their cruel eyes scrutinised them from head to toe. Their hands looked rough, probably from the beatings they gave to children like her.

This is nothing like Hogwarts, she thought.

“Silence” 

Akash’s booming voice echoed across the hall. He looked far from the kind person she had met a few minutes ago. She watched as he stepped away from the mic, and a stout woman took his place.

“Good morning, young boys and girls. I am pleased to welcome the sixth class students to Woodsmith school. Established in 1915, it is an institution renowned across India for its discipline and excellence in all fields. You all will be divided into four houses. And those houses will be there with you till you leave this school. But the friends you make and the lessons you learn will last you life long! I welcome back all other senior students for another year of learning.”

Khushi crossed her fingers discreetly, wishing to be in the same house as Arnav.

Waiting patiently, she heard the names being called out with their houses.

“Khushi Gupta….Green house!”

She sighed. After all, Payal di was in yellow.

She looked at Arnav to see his eyes set on the stage, listening intently.

“Arnav Raizada….Red house!”

All her hopes came crashing down. The one person she could be friends with, would be away from her forever, she thought stewing in her own misery.

She startled as she felt a rough crumble of paper being stuffed in her hand.

“What?” She whispered into Arnav’s ears.

“Read it after the assembly “ he said sternly, before flinging his bag over his shoulder and heading towards the red house master.

Heart thumping, she looked around for her own house master.

She walked towards an older girl, waving a green flag, her hands still clutching the note.

————

Meet me at the secret stairs

Scrawled with pencil below this command were directions leading to the said staircase. 

Khushi knew she should head towards her dorm room, but she just couldn’t let a friend down.

Arnav was her friend wasn’t he?

Stumbling and fumbling across hallways and grounds, she finally found the rustic dome Arnav had scribbled in his map.

She walked inside, noticing the brick walls and brick staircase.

“Boo!”

“Aah!” 

“Shush Khushi! It’s me!” Arnav chuckled.

“You gave me a heart attack!” She slapped his arm.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Eleven year olds don’t get heart attacks silly!”

“Whatever” she muttered.

“Now come", he grabbed her hand leading her up the stairs.

There was his bag, beside two soda bottles. 

“There was only one flavour” he said sheepishly.

“How do you know of this place?” 

She felt at peace. Far away from the tall teachers and snobby children.

“Well, my parents brought me and my brother here this summer. You know, just to let me check out where I’ll be going. And I just explored the place.”

Then a streak of seriousness entered his eyes.

“No one should get to know about this place Khushi, I am serious. This is sacred. Do you get it?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Promise” She entwined her pinky finger with his, flashing him a toothy grin.

They sipped their strawberry flavoured soda quietly, sharing a few moments of silence before the mayhem takes over.

“We are in different houses,” she said sadly.

“But we are in the same class,” he clinked his bottle with hers.

Khushi didn’t budge.

“I’ll tell you what!” He opened his bag, held out a sharp compass. 

He took his soda bottle cap and with an artist’s precision, began scraping at it.

There on the pink cap, over the bold letters spelling out soda, was the scratch 

A+K

“A memorabilia for our friendship! It will last forever Khushi Gupta !” He winked.

“Okay” she smiled softly.

The brick walls stood still, as a tale of love began.

Tagging: @hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm

——————

Chapter One>>

[fierymiasma]

✽ Five Times....// Sebastian x f!MC ✽

Summary: Five times Sebastian Sallow Was Jealous and One Time He Didn't Have to Be (Part 2)

Words: 2.7k

Part 1 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Full Fic

|| Masterlist || AO3 || Upcoming ||

Chapter 2: Girls

"So…how did it go?"  Sebastian asked in his most causal voice.

The hero of Hogwarts pointedly ignored him, focused on the transfiguration before her.

Sebastian pouted, resting his cheek on his hand.  She had been avoiding Sebastian ever since he interrupted her date at Hogsmeade.  He tried to respect her need for space.  After all, how many times did Sebastian need to pout and be alone with his thoughts in their 5th year?

But it's been two whole days since they talked.  Practically eons.  Surely, she didn't expect to starve Sebastian of her companionship?  For the past two nights, he barely had any sleep, tossing and turning, dying to learn of the outcome of the date.  If she and Ben Harrrington had decided to go steady, Sebastian wouldn't know what to do with himself.

Pouting silently next to her, he watched her transform her teacup into a gerbil.  Transfiguration was one of those fields that was just as much of an art than science.  Sure, any ordinary witch or wizard could brute force solid masses and conglomerate it into its final product but…she…?

She made it look so easy, fluid lines and masses moving like water, shifting beautifully amongst itself to transform into her desires.  The hero of Hogwarts was always naturally gifted at magic.  Sebastian always took pleasure in just watching her in her element. 

Still, he had to wonder.  He gazed at her with his undivided attention.  His own gerbil had long wandered off having been entirely forgotten.  "How did it go?" 

 "How did what go?" she feigned ignorance.

He huffed.  She was smart enough to know exactly what Sebastian was referring to.  "Your…date," he hissed through gritted teeth.  "with Benjamin Cushings-

"Ben Carrow."  She corrected, still not looking up at Sebastian. 

Sebastian resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the mention at the other boy's name.

She chewed on her bottom lip.  With a swish of her wand, the gerbil turned back into a teacup.  In all honesty, the date hadn't gone as well as she had hoped.  Maybe it was Sebastian's interruption complicating her already confusing feelings, or maybe she was really not compatible with the 7th year.  She had been so sure Sebastian was about to confess his feelings towards her.  Everyone had told her that the other Slytherin boy harbored a crush on her.

They were wrong.  She was wrong.  It was clear that Sebastian didn't think of her as anything more than a friend.

The better she came to terms with it, the better. 

Sebastian shifted nervously at her lack of response.  She didn't understand.  Sebastian needed to know.  He needed to know if all of his chances with her were completely dashed.  Using his signature Sebastian Sallow charm, he angled his body towards her, fluffing his hair a bit, sitting exactly right.

"I assume it didn't go all too well?"  Sebastian pouted dramatically,  "It's a shame.  I rather liked him.  Seemed like a right chap."  He stretched his arms over his head languidly, knowing full well that the muscles in his arms would shift ever so slightly against his tight school outfit.  "Don't worry your head about it.  Plenty of blokes in the sea."

Finally, she slammed her fist on the desk in anger, her first real reaction during this whole conversation.  There was an ugly twist to her mouth as she glared at Sebastian with utter contempt.

"Actually, Sallow, the date went fantastic!"  She hissed through gritted teeth.  "It was just grand, thankyouverymuch.  In fact, Ben and I are going to go off an elope to London right after his graduation, and our wedding will be attended by a herd of magical unicorns, and we'll skip into the sunset." 

Abruptly, she stood up from her seat, her chair screeching backwards noisily.  "I have to talk to Natty about something."

With a swish of her hair, she turned away, stomping rather dramatically towards Natty's desk, no doubt trying to find herself a new Transfiguration partner.

Sebastian was again left alone at their desk, with only her hairy gerbil sized teacup for company.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Dismissed from Transfiguration class, Sebastian shouldered past the rest of his classmates. "Natty!"  The Gryffindor alone.  It was the perfect time for Sebastian to do snooping.  "Natsai!"

"Sebastian!"  Natty turned around. "How was your weekend?"

"Good," Sebastian rushed, sparing the details.  The rest of the students walked around them, no doubt annoyed that they were blocking their path.  "And yours?"

"Great!  I got to spend some time with friends by the Black Lake-"

"-Oh?  Was the new Crossed Wand Champion there?"  Sebastian feigned ignorance, as if he wasn't stalking her the whole weekend.

Natty's eyes twinkled with mirth.  They were too knowing.  Still, she was kind enough to not point out how desperate he appeared.  "Oh, no, actually I believe she was on a date."

"Oh?  A date?  That's fantastic." Sebastian's smile was far too wide and far too fake.  "And how did it go… the date?"  Sebastian asked in a light airy tone, as if he wasn't dying to know every single detail.

Natty mimicked zipping her lips.  "My lips are solemnly sealed under the oath I have taken upon joining Girl Talk."

Sebastian's brows knitted in confusion.  "Girl Talk?"

She beamed; her teeth dazzling. "Our weekly afternoon tea sessions with Imelda, Poppy, your crush, and myself."

"I don't have a crush on her."  Sebastian mumbled darkly underneath his breath.  

Natty ignored his comments.  "My friend, I am sorry, but I cannot share anything with you.  If you really want to know, perhaps you should ask her yourself."

He huffed.  Well, he just tried that, and for some reason, it didn't go as well as he expected.  Sebastian's eyes widened innocently.  "Really, not even for me, your old dueling partner?"

Natty was impervious.  She shook her head resolutely.  "I am afraid not.  It is just as grave as an unbreakable vow.  Breathe a word from girl talk, and I am effectively banished from Hogwarts for Life."

He rolled his eyes.  Getting Natty to ever change her mind was like getting Headmaster Black to suddenly become tolerant of Muggles: impossible. 

"Sebastian, I sense the feeling that my weekend is not at the forefront of your mind,"  The corner of Natty's lips ticked upwards, "What is it that is troubling you?"

Sebastian sighed.  Natty was perceptive as ever.  Always able to pinpoint what was truly bothering people.  "Nothing.  Our vertically challenged friend is just avoiding me is all.  She hasn't even invited me on her outings outside Hogwarts in weeks."  He crossed his arms.  "I should be so lucky it's mostly you and Poppy that she goes on her adventures with.  I wouldn't know what I would do if she chose some troll-headed boy like Benjamin Cushings to tag along with her misadventures."

Natty frowned, confused.  "Why does it matter?  Girl or Boy?  The possibility of her developing feelings for either Poppy or myself is still present, yes?"

Warning bells rang in Sebastian's head.  Her first date with Ben What's-his-face now entirely forgotten.  "Wait, what are you saying?  Does she like…"

Natty giggled, mischief in her eye.  "Whether or not 'your crush' likes girls, boys, or both, is not for me to answer.  That is something you must ask her yourself. But…." she sang in a teasing voice.  "I have noticed how quickly her eyes look at my backside when she thinks no one is watching her."

The ground was spinning.  Sebastian fought to steady himself.  Now, no one was safe.  Not only did he have to worry about the male students that she interacted with, but the female students as well.  It instantly doubled the number of people he now had to keep his eyes on.  Natty, Poppy, Imelda, Anne. 

…Anne….

Oh Merlin, Anne.  He's left her alone with Anne many times.  How naïve he's been thinking his lonely sister could use some female company, a new friend in the lonely cottage in Feldcroft.  How positively elated he'd been when his new best friend and sister became thick as thieves.  Sebastian's heart would skip a beat whenever the hero of Hogwarts would go out of her way to stop by Feldcroft and drop off freshly made scones.

Oh Merlin the scones…what if…there were never any scones…what they've been secretly snogging this whole time?

After all, she's never made him scones before.

"If I could offer some advice, my old Cross Wands partner," Natty interrupted his thoughts.  "My father has always told me sharing my feelings is better than holding them in.  Perhaps, if you told our friend your concerns, you'll find them much more manageable than you anticipate." 

Sebastian wrinkled his nose.  Tell his crush friend how he felt?  No thanks.  He'd rather be trapped in the Scriptorium.  Biding Natty a very hasty goodbye, Sebastian sprinted to the hero of Hogwarts's favorite hiding spot in the Transfiguration courtyard. 

Curled in the shade of the biggest tree in the courtyard, she had books spread around her, jotting down notes on parchment.  Without so much as a hello, Sebastian grabbed her by the arm (strangely she did not protest at this), dragging her to a secluded corner of the courtyard by her sleeve.  He waited until the coast was clear.

"Sebastian!  What is all the fuse about?  I have a 14 inch paper due for Professor Binns!"

He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was listening to their conversation.  He turned back to hiss quietly.  "Are you interested in girls?"

She scrunched her nose in confusion, essay forgotten.  "Come again?"

Sebastian paced back and forth, rubbing the back of his neck.  Every fiber in his body wanted to wrap her closer, shake an answer out of her.  "Some people, rumors really, around the school say that you prefer girls as well as guys."

He did not get the reaction he wanted.  She folded her arms, leaning away from him.  "And, since when did you care for school gossip?"  She asked coldly.  "Why does it matter to you if I like girls or if I like guys?"

He felt like pulling his hair.  What did it matter?  It was only the most important question in all of Hogwarts!  What if she wasn't interested in boys at all?  What if her date with Whats-his-name was just a cover?  Oh Merlin, was Sebastian doomed from the very start?

"Of course it matters!  I need to know!"  Her disgusted expression made him backtrack.  "As your friend of course.  I'm not…I'm not…a hateful git or anything."  She scoffed, walking away.  "Oh don't be like that.  You know I'm not against the idea of two woman or two men being together.  Merlin, Sirona is one of the best people I know…and….and Professor Garlick!  I'm pretty sure she fancies a lady!  Not sure who..but…you know she looks the type!" 

His friend stopped walking away from him.  Her body was stiff.  Her voice was low and dangerous.  "She looks the type?"

Sebastian could sense he was about to walk into a trap he didn't know he sprung.  "Well, I mean the general…aura.  But it doesn't matter!  Point is, I will always be your friend.  Regardless of who-I mean, what type of person you like!"

Her eyes narrowed, Sebastian was getting on her last fucking nerve.  First the date, then the incessant nagging during Transfiguration, now this.  What had gotten in Sebastian recently? 

Spinning around, she marched back to Sebastian.  She was going to give him a piece of her mind.  Before she could spew her angry tirade, the words were caught in her throat.

Rubbing the back of his neck nervously, Sebastian had a soft expression on his face.  He was shuffling his feet nervously in the courtyard.  His hair had fallen from its normally perfect coif, tumbling over his brow.  No doubt, he had been grabbing at its roots, in frustration.  He gazed at her through its strands with wide bright eyes.

And just as suddenly as it came, her anger deflated.  This was Sebastian, her closest friend in Hogwarts.  No matter what awful thing he did, she could never be too angry at him.  "You wouldn't reveal this secret of mine to everyone in Hogwarts?"

"Never."   Sebastian answered automatically.  "Every secret you tell me, I guard with my life.  I would never betray you like that.  And, no matter who you like, you'll always be one of my closest friends.  That I can promise."  He was alarmed at his own sincerity.  Sebastian would never stop caring for her, even if she didn't reciprocate his feelings, though…he'd much rather prefer if she did feel the same way. 

Her shoulders relaxed.  "Even if I was only attracted to nasally annoying gits named Leander Prewitt?"

"Prewitt???  Blasted Prewitt??" he sputtered at her laughter.  "Now, hold on a minute.  Your preferences don't mean you have to lack taste!  Like any gender you want, but Leander Prewitt?  Leander?  What?  Too many troll attacks knock your head a bit lose?  Prewitt?"

She tried to stifle her laughter behind her robe sleeves.  She looked more relax, all the tension disappearing from her shoulders.  She knew Sebastian was an stand up gentleman deep down, but she couldn't help but be a bit nervous talking about a subject as sensitive as this.  She could never knew how people would react in this day and age.  She wouldn't want to lose her best friend.  "Alright, alright, Sebastian.  Don't bully the poor boy.  I get it.  You're not an ignorant prude." 

"Only when it comes to Prewitt."  Sebastian muttered underneath his breath.

Her expression softened, overwhelmingly relieved that Sebastian was an ally (abetted an awkward one at that).  She pulled Sebastian into an unexpected hug, tucking her face into the crook of his neck.  Her hands gripped on his robes hard.  It was silly that she was so worried talking to Sebastian about something like this.  It was Sebastian, the boy who always stood by her side.  She should have known from the very first moment Sebastian took the fall for their adventure in the restricted section that he would do anything for her.

Sebastian was thrown off, instantly overwhelmed.  He didn't know what prompted the hug, but the Slytherin wasn't going to ever let opportunities like this pass over him.  Quickly seizing his moment, he wrapped his arms around her, holding onto her tightly.  He never wanted to let her go.  He basked in her scent, surrounded by the intoxicating scent of her flowery perfume.  Honeysuckle, lavender, and her favorite apple tarts from the kitchen.  Soft strands of her hair tickled his cheek.  Her arms were so sure and comforting around him. 

Merlin, this feeling was dangerous.  In her arms, everything felt so right.  The world was at peace and every insurmountable problem in Sebastian's life had entirely slipped his mind.  He couldn't pinpoint exactly what he was feeling, but whatever it was, it was far more dangerous than any dark arts that he had ever dabbled in.  Before he could take it in any more, the hug was over.  Just as quickly it started, it was gone.

He missed her warmth.

The transfer stood in front of him, awkwardly fidgety as if she was surprised by her own reactions.  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.  "Um, good talk Sebastian.  I…I have to go finish my History of Magic Essay before Binns gives me detention.  Um, see you at dinner!"  With that rushed goodbye, she scurried out of the corridor.

Sebastian stood there lamely still trying to memorize the scent of her shampoo.  His heart was pounding as though he just fought off a troll and won.  He folded his arms.  "She never did answer my question, did she?" 

Part 3

------

A/N: MC is bisexual af.  Sebastian's just too stupid to read between the lines.

[mellowsadistic]

Wrath

“No! No! No!” Lisa screeched, pumping her fists impotently and stomping her feet like a petulant toddler. A thick disposable diaper crinkled noisily between her legs. “I’m not gonna wear them anymore! I’m not! You can’t do this to me! “I need the toilet now, so get out of my way! I’m a CEO! I’m your boss!”

“Not anymore, Lisa,” said her former assistant. His eyes sparkled with satisfaction as he took in the sight of his nightmare of an ex-boss throwing an absurd tantrum, her usual expensive suit swapped for a bulky adult nappy and nothing else.  “You lost your position, remember? Now you’re just my little dependent. And I’ve decided that you need regular discipline. I know from experience that nappies are the best way. My mum used diaper discipline on my older sister when we were growing up, and nothing sweetened her attitude more than having to go uh-oh in her undies and ask for changes.”

“You can’t discipline me!” Lisa screamed. “I’m an adult! I don’t need to be disciplined!”

“Oh yes you do, little girl,” her ex-assistant said sternly. “You’ve proved you’re far too immature to be treated like an adult, Lisa. Anyone could see you don’t have the mental capacity to take care of yourself anymore, not since these tantrums of yours started getting out of control. Well, more out of control than they used to be, anyway. Personally, I’ve always thought you were just an overgrown little brat who needs a firm hand, and I’m legally your caregiver now, so it’s up to me whether you get disciplined or not.”

Lisa let out an ear-piercing shriek. “NO! NO! NO! NO! I’m an adult! I’m thirty! I don’t wanna be treated like a stupid toddler anymore!”

“Then stop throwing silly little temper tantrums like one, sweetie.”

“But I can’t!” Lisa wailed furiously. “You did something to me! You put something in my coffee, I know it! Before I drank it, I was fine! But now I can’t… I can’t…”

“You can’t control your emotions anymore?” he asked with a smirk.

Lisa burst into tears and started jumping up and down in anger. This wasn’t fair! She knew she looked utterly stupid, bouncing on the spot with her breasts jiggling about, wearing nothing but a nappy, she there was nothing she could do. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t control herself! She’d been declared mentally incompetent after a series of toddler-style meltdowns in the boardroom, ever since her assistant had given her that cup of coffee with that dark smile on his face, and he had been delighted to take her in. The worst thing was that nobody even seemed very surprised. She’d had a reputation for exploding with anger at her employees, and all of them seemed to think she was getting exactly what she deserved.

Suddenly, Lisa let out a gasp. Her bladder, which she had been clamping down on desperately while she tried to get past her new Daddy, finally gave in, and she felt a horrible warmth spreading across her crotch, soaking into the thirsty padding of her baby pants.

“Noooooo!” she whined pathetically, clutching between her legs.

“Awww,” her Daddy taunted cooingly. “Did baby have a widdle accident?”

“You made me!” Lisa cried, screwing up her face in disgust as she felt pee sloshing around in her pants. She hopped from foot to foot as if she were trying to get away from the icky feeling, but her diaper just swung pendulously between her legs and squished against her thighs. “Ew! Ew! Ew!”

“You’ll get used to it, little one,” her ex-assistant mocked. “In fact, after a while you won’t even be able to control yourself anymore! Won’t that be the cutest thing? The big bad boss turned into a helpless little pants-wetter. Only, I don’t think there are going to be any pairs of big girl pants in your future, Lisa. Just an awful lot of diapers.”

Lisa fought as hard as she could to stop herself from breaking down again, scowling furiously up at the man who’d turned her into a joke.

But he just chuckled. “You’re not scary anymore, silly baby. What are you going to do to me? Oh wait… I think I already know.” He grinned. “Go on, sweetie. Be a good little girl and show Daddy. You used to think you were real tough when you were the boss, but now you’re just a dumb baby in a wet nappy. So what’s the worst you can do?”

Lisa couldn’t stop herself. She showed him. She fell to the floor and started wailing at the top of her lungs, kicking her legs and pounding the carpet. Tears poured down her cheeks, and her pissy diaper squelched against her privates, and she did the only thing she could do when she got angry, the thing she’d never be able to stop herself from doing ever again – she threw the loudest, fussiest temper tantrum she could.

And when Daddy dragged her over to the corner and spanked her bottom and told her she wouldn’t be getting a nappy change until bedtime, all she could do was cry.

[27339-321]

The Landlord

(did i ever manage to find who’s post gave me inspiration? No. But credit to them!)

10:48 am Tuesday, August 17th, 2008

In the dark, foreboding woods, there stood an ancient mansion. This mansion was the home of Slenderman, the tall, faceless figure known to haunt the nightmares of many.

It was a normal Tuesday in the manor. Though all of its inhabitants hadn’t awakened yet, barely heard voices echoed through the kitchen. Masky was nursing his usual cup of coffee, having a quiet conversation with his brother in arms, Hoodie. Jane was cooking breakfast, expecting the tiny trots of the murderous crowd to come running down any second. All in all, the morning was peaceful so far with the main chaotic crew still slumbering away in their beds as they rested from their hunts of the night. Toby was quietly munching on his prized waffles when an inhuman screech ran through the manor causing all of them to jump startled.

“What the hell?..” Masky murmured, the rest of them agreeing silently. They watched the kitchen’s door for a moment, expecting the cause of the scream to barrel through it at any minute. When Slender burst into the room, papers in hand and quietly cursing to himself, they all looked at him in shock. Most couldn’t tell when the eldritch horror was feeling a certain way due to his facelessnes, mainly feeling his anger or irritation in the air as it throttled their brains, racking them with headaches until he noticed. This time though, they could definitely tell that their boss was stressed.

“A-are you al-alright, boss? You l-look like yuh-you need a coffee..” Toby said, the words muffled behind the sticky syrup and waffles he’d shoved in his mouth. At his words, the creature stood straight, realizing he had company. Though it was mainly his proxies, he didn’t feel the need to speak with others in the room, throwing a glance at Jane over the stove. She had her back to them, plating up the breakfast she was cooking as she heard the telltale sound of the two kids rushing down the stairs. He turned away from her, gripping the papers tightly as he took his seat at the head of the table.

“I..seem to have a small problem.” He said, thanking Hoodie as he slid him a cup of black tea. It washed down the dryness of his throat, but the bitterness did nothing for the anxiety he felt creeping upon him. He couldn’t believe he could be so stupid to forget something so important. The main reason he even kept an office was to keep up with his paperwork, and somehow this managed to slip by him. Behind his mask, Tim rose an eyebrow.

“What could be an issue that's got you in such a twist?” Slender shook his head, his hand curling tightly around his mug as he thought of a solution to the dilemma. 

“I may...have forgotten to pay rent.” Silence followed after that. The residents in the kitchen, now including Sally, Lazari, and BEN, all staring at the man in a mixture of puzzlement and disbelief. 

“I thought this was just an abandoned mansion?” Sally inquired, shooting BEN a small glare as the cybernetic ghost slurped noisily on his cereal. A few nodded in agreement with the little girl, having the same thoughts. At his sigh, Jane spoke up.

“Can’t you just kill the landlord? It’s not like anyone can fight you other than… you-know-who.” She asked, sparing a small glance at the little demon girl contently eating her eggs and bacon with vigor. 

A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about her question. Killing the landlord sounds simple, if only they weren’t as powerful as they were. “No, that isn’t an option as lovely as it would be… i-i just need money...” he replied, shocking them all at the tremble in his voice. They all grew tense, seeing how serious this situation actually was turning out to be. Not even Zalgo, the worst enemy they had, could put fear in their boss’s heart— but the landlord could? Just who was this guy?

“Sounds like we need to rob a bank or slice some necks.” Jeff said, making everyone’s neck snap and look at him. He shrugged at them all, twirling his knife as he walked to the fridge, rummaging through it for the leftovers from yesterday. Slender sighed again, realizing just how hopeless everything was turning out to be. The three proxies seeing their boss’s hands shake, all nodded to each other silently, planning to use Jeff’s idea to help them out. They left without him noticing, too engrossed by his deteriorating thoughts of how he would perish or, even worse, he didn’t know. The others continued to voice other ideas to the eldritch horror, but they increasingly grew more unhelpful as the ideas were shot down one by one. Everything got silent though, when a knock came from the front door. Jumping at the noise, Slender quickly teleported away, much to the shock of the rest at the table. 

In his office, he paced back and forth as he tried desperately to think of a way to solve his problem. Despite his eerie presence and supernatural abilities, Slenderman had a mundane problem: he was very behind on his rent.

The landlord, a being of immense power and mystery, had granted Slenderman the mansion centuries ago when he had first begun to haunt these woods, living in an abandoned hospital tucked away in his nesting ground for a while before the being appeared before him, offering him help. This creature, with their god-like control over reality, had set one simple rule for him: keep up with the payments, or face the consequences.

Slenderman, usually so meticulous, had been preoccupied with his various hauntings, and the chaotic nature that his pastas brought had missed several payments recently. And the landlord, sharp as ever, decided it was time to remind Slenderman of his obligations. First it was a simple note. When that went unanswered as he began to scramble around for the money, he knew what was to come.

At the front door, the being in question stood patiently. Though similar to the rest of the Slendermen with his stature and attire, that was where all comparisons ended. They were at least six feet tall, dressed in a sharp modern three-piece suit that hugged its frail-looking frame delightfully. Its eyes glowed a cold, icy blue, sending a chill through anyone who dared to meet its gaze. Its lips were in a tight line, a frown barely decipherable behind the large fedora that covered their head and face. It looked like a slim businessman if one ignored the unnatural color of its eyes. As it brushed back its long dark locks, it raised its hand to its mouth, eyes slowly turning a neon magenta.

With a mere whisper, the landlord’s voice echoed through the mansion, causing the very walls to tremble.

"Slenderman," the voice intoned, "you are late on your rent."

Slenderman, despite his fearsome reputation, felt ice run down his veins. He knew better than to ignore the being's summons. He slowly began to leave the safety of his office for the living room, where the landlord awaited behind the front door, their presence casting an ominous shadow.

Heads peeked around corners and doors, all watching to see who could make their fearless leader into a terrified man. Not noticing the eyes that watched him, he exhaled shakily before he opened the door. His neck tilted a little to meet the face of his landlord, gulping nervously at the blue eyes that peeked at him from the hat’s rim.

"I apologize," Slenderman said, his voice a mere whisper in the vast room. "I have been... distracted."

The landlord’s eyes, cold and calculating, bore into Slenderman. "Distractions are no excuse. You know the rules. Fail to pay, and you will face the consequences."

Slenderman nodded, knowing there was no room for argument. He had to find a way to make up the missed payments or risk losing his home and facing the landlord’s wrath. As he moved to speak, Jeff barged his way into the conversation.

“Pfft. Yeah right, asshat. Considering we outnumber you, I don't think old Slendy has to pay a damn thing.” He said smugly, throwing the being a sharp smile that promised pain. At Jeff’s words, more of the less mentally inclined pastas stepped out of their hiding places, insane smiles splitting their faces as they stood threateningly ready for any action. 

The cold blue eyes glowed as they stared down at the pale, bloodied teens. A sharp glance at Slender showed this wasn’t his idea as he flinched, taking a step back at the look in the being's eyes. It brought hesitance to the crowd, striking them odd at the fear their leader showed. Some began to lower their weapons, rethinking their choices when Jeff stood, rushing at the stranger with an insane giggle. As soon as he managed to get within a step away with his knife raised to slash, the being’s eyes flashed to magenta once more.

“And as he ran, Jeffrey Woods stabbed himself through the knee.”

Jeff’s scream tore all their eyes toward him. They watched in shock as the blood bubbled around the blade, dripping onto the floor. The teen’s prized knife was lodged straight through his knee, cutting through the tendons and bone, the tip glistening and dripping the red liquid. Jeff looked at his hand in shock, gripping the handle of the blade tightly, adding more pressure to the wound, causing him to scream out more in pain. In panic, he looked up into the glowing magenta eyes, fear holding him in its grasp as he could barely tear his eyes away from the being that towered over him.

Whimpers left his mouth as he continued to hold its gaze, feeling the pressure of its power forcing him to dig the knife deeper and deeper into the wound. After a minute of this, the landlord blinked. 

Jeff was back on the couch shaking, no hole in his knee. The only evidence left behind was the large bloodstain that coated his pants leg around the area. The others watched in shocked terror, slowly realizing the reason for Slender’s fear. The landlord looked up from the ground where Jeff once was before slowly turning its gaze on Slender’s again. 

“I should hope this wasn’t your doing?”

The creature in question flinched once more, feeling those cold eyes make ice run through his veins. He remembered when he was like Jeff— a fool. For only a fool would try to fight a being with powers like its. Its reality bending nature bringing a new set of horrors, especially from one as creative and old as it was.

The power of narration. It was like life was only a book for this being, turning the page each century it passed, each life it brought down before it, never moving a muscle, only needing a name to bring down its foes. He swallowed the heavy feeling in his chest, scratching his brain for a way to appease the being before it brought torture to them all for Jeff’s careless actions.

“Y-you see...”

“SLENDYY, W-wE GOT THE d-DOE!” Toby screamed as the trio barged their way through the kitchen’s door. Sacks of cash were in their hands as they slowed their running to take in the atmosphere of the room. Stopping just before their master, they looked at the frightened faces of the other pastas around them. Before either of them could ask what was wrong, Slender’s tendrils snatched the bags away, offering them to the being in front of him.

“Yes!. I..i was waiting on my proxies to gather... never mind...” he cut himself off, seeing the glare aimed at him. It knew when one was going to tell a lie, already hearing the future words one would say as if they were whispered into its ears. ‘Maybe it does...’ he thought quietly, watching with bated breath as his landlord’s own tendrils came out to release the sacks from his grip. 

The landlord stared at the bags in front of it as if it could count its contents. Maybe it could, or maybe it was merely sizing up the amount the bags contained. Slender didn’t know how long they sat and held their breaths as the being stared at the sacks silently, the anxiety and anticipation reeking in the air. Finally, the coldness that flooded the room warmed up as the creature lowered the bags with a small smile.

"Very well, Slenderman," the landlord said, their voice echoing through the hall despite the whispering of its voice. "You have fulfilled your obligation. But remember, I am always watching."

Slenderman bowed his head in gratitude and relief as the rest of the room let out the air in their lungs, feeling the same. He knew he could never let his guard down, for the landlord’s eyes were always upon him, ready to enforce the rules with their cold, omnipotent power. 

With a nod of its own, it turned on its heels and walked away into the forest, disappearing as soon as it hit the treeline. When all was clear, Slender shut the door and stared at it for a moment.

“…was that the landlord?” Masky asked, Hoodie and Toby humming their inquiries also. BEN floated over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Tim, seeing the shake of his head, decided not to push further. Sneaking a glance at Hoodie, they left to their own devices. Soon, everyone but Jeff and Slender had left the living room.

Jeff shot Slender a look, but the eldritch horror couldn’t make its body turn from the door. One thing's for sure: he will never miss another payment again.

(Should definitely check out the full book on Quotev if you can. Muah 💋)

https://www.quotev.com/story/16864587/The-Landlord

[mamamittens]

Cracks in the Road (+18)

This lovely fic is a commissioned sequel to Race You to the Finish Line for @cebwrites

Mermaid!LawXKirin(OC)

Warnings: Ovipositor mention, breeding kink, cervix fucking, egg-pregnancy, past/referenced homophobia, egg laying/birth, sex during cramps/contractions, overstimulation, and bath sex. You have been warned.

Word Count: 8,554

The rain poured down over the blacktop road in thick sheets. Fat shutters of water that obscured the reflective signage on either side of the road. Warning of low or non existent shoulders and deep pits that collected water and debris like bowls. Thunder rumbling overhead as Kirin hissed, tipping back the slender bottle of cheap beer.

This was stupid.

So fucking stupid.

Kirin knew that.

Thoughts hazy, ears ringing from screams that had been silenced for weeks now.

Face hot and tears cluttering his lashes. Dashing what little light he could make out in the headlights into drunken blurs.

A flash of something in the road.

His hands gripping the steering wheel turning suddenly.

Tires screeching as Kirin hazily wondered if he remembered to turn away from the cliff.

Kirin awoke, curled into the dark embrace of his bed. Nighttime critters calling faintly outside in the cooling air. Moonlight gracing the bedroom floor in a sheet of silvered light. He shifted, grunting as the weight in his belly moved. Sighing with some difficulty as he turned into Law’s arms instead.

There was a weird tightness that wound around his hips and lower belly. The continuous pressure shifting slightly with every other movement. Teasing him with the steady progress of their eggs.

Kirin had a lot of questions after he woke up. Thankfully clean of any mud, but aching all over. Particularly between his thighs.

He swallowed hard, blinking away tears that he buried into Law’s soft hair. The other huffing noisily as they pulled Kirin closer. Legs tangling together restlessly.

Well, Law pulled Kirin as close as they could manage. Kirin’s belly noticeably swollen as the eggs gestated inside his body. Supposedly, there should be fewer now than what went it. Weak or unstable eggs dissolving along the way until only the most fit remained. Despite being a very… unconventional pregnancy, Kirin still experienced some things.

It was frankly bullshit, but Kirin wound up with odd cravings, massive mood swings, and… tenderness in odd places. Places Law was all too willing to tend to, chuckling softly when Kirin flushed, embarrassed about the soft beads of liquid that dripped down his chest. Which usually devolved into long, exhausting sessions that made his thighs shake as he clenched down onto whatever Law slipped into his folds. Fingers or cock, usually both by the time they were done.

Kirin swallowed hard, pushing down the surge of heat before he started needily grinding against Law—again.

Law never complained, but it was embarrassing how whiny Kirin’s voice got the further along the ‘pregnancy’ went. How horribly sensitive he became to everything. Physically or emotionally. Sometimes so rapidly Kirin would be sniffling about a wobbly kitten trying to fight their mom—something he’d seen hours before—while Law was licking up his slick pussy. Leading to a very embarrassing and confusing conversation, Kirin tearfully reassuring Law that he was alright—just emotional.

Law growled, puling Kirin from his thoughts, a rolling sound echoing in their chest as they huffed. Burrowing their face into Kirin’s throat with soft, wet kisses. Hands rubbing Kirin’s waist and hips, even in sleep.

They’d been doing that a lot too. Swears it’s good for the eggs. Something about the vibrations stimulating them inside Kirin’s womb. It also had the side effect of soothing Kirin into relaxing which Law absolutely used to their advantage several times. Already, Kirin could feel his muscles relaxing. That tension in his belly loosening as sleep slowly pulled him back under again.

The night was still and peaceful.

The rain slammed into his car furiously at the odd angle he’d managed to wedge it into a thick bush. Overgrown from the forest opposite the cliffside, spilling into the drainage ditch. Kirin gasped, clutching his head as he opened the door and vomited acrid beer into the grass.

Over the heavy rain, Kirin heard it.

A soft, plaintive mewl. A dark smear slinking over the road and scrambling into the shelter of his car. Shivering wet ball of dark, calico fur. The biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen almost begging to be considered kindly.

It was a cat. Shaking and cold. Reflective eyes what spooked Kirin as he sped around the tight corner.

Wet fur matted and stinking despite the sudden, natural bath it had been forced into having.

Kirin looked at the cat, wiping his mouth as the rain pelted his head. Sharp teeth flashed as it weakly hissed upon receiving no tender care for it’s woeful cries.

He reached out.

The light of the Christmas tree was blinding. Tucked into the corner next to a table displaying a simplistic nativity scene.

Kirin could see himself, so young and small the kid had to stand on their tip toes to gaze on the tiny baby Jesus cradled in a manger. Mary and Joesph—his mother and father—tenderly looking down on the small bundle.

“Baby, what are you doing up so late?” His grandma asked softly, voice loving and kind as she brushed back the child’s hair.

“Do you think Mary loved him?” Kirin had asked so long ago. “I-I mean… I know she did. But… would she have loved him if she didn’t know about the whole… god thing? If he was born weird and stayed weird and died weird without any ex-exp-explanation?” he’d asked, on the precipice of a realization.

This night haunted Kirin sometimes.

“Oh, baby, of course she would have. Even if he was… ‘weird’. Because he was her baby.”

“W-What if she didn’t understand, though? Could she still love him?” he had asked her, finally turning to look up at the closest thing Kirin had to a real mother.

She had smiled, the dip of her cheeks cast in a hazy shadow. Flickering, colorful lights dancing in her eyes as she kneeled down and cradled their face.

“Mary didn’t need to be told Jesus was her baby boy, ---. She held him in her arms, in that old barn, and saw the only thing that mattered. Not that he was the son of God. Savior of Man. No, baby…” Kirin could still remember how tenderly she regarded him. “She saw Jesus was her baby boy. Even before resurrection, that was her baby. And she loved her baby regardless of what he would become. Because he started right there. Her baby in the manger. Precious baby boy, even when he no longer fit in her arms as he did back then.”

A baby in a manger.

A child on their tiptoes wondering if she would be loved if she was not she.

A cat, swaddled in an old jacket, left on a porch.

A calloused thumb swiping across Kirin’s lashes startled him awake. Dark, worried eyes met his in the morning light.

Kirin sniffled, rubbing his nose and sighing. Shaking his head.

“M fine, honey.” Kirin huffed, pressing a soft kiss to Law’s cheek before struggling to get out of bed. Law helped, steady hands pushing Kirin up while still lingering on his hips and belly. “Can’t believe I’ve gotten so big. Any bigger and you’ll have to roll me out of bed.” He huffed, finally planting his feet on the floor.

Law pressed a kiss to his lower back, slowly making their way up along the column of his spine until they could press their lips onto his neck. A soft laugh puffing over his skin as their hands slid over the swell of his belly.

“Would just carry you, baby. No need to roll around when I’m right here with empty arms.” Law purred, slipping in close until their chest pressed against his back. “So beautiful—didn’t think you could look any cuter. Glad I was wrong. Carrying our babies so well.” Their hands slipped down between Kirin’s thighs, under the heavy curve of his belly, and Kirin moaned. Head tilting back as he shifted his thighs open a little more.

“A-Ahhhn~ H-How much longer, Law?” Kirin whined breathlessly, relaxing back into Law’s embrace as the other spread open his folds. Calloused fingers slipping and teasing his clit and slick opening.

“Till you cum? Not much longer, you’re so sensitive, darlin’.” Law chuckled.

Kirin weakly slapped at Law’s side in protest, inhaling sharply as they slipped in two, long fingers.

Law wasn’t lying—Kirin was ridiculously sensitive the further along the pregnancy went. Pussy practically weeping onto Law’s hand with soft, wet smacks.

“N-Nooo, y-you know wha’ I mean~!” Kirin protested, hips jerking into Law’s hand as they chuckled.

“Soon. Varies, sometimes. You’re so hot inside, could be any day now. Speeds things up… there we go, baby. Feeling better?” Law purred as Kirin let out a low whine, pussy trembling as he soaked the edge of the bed and Law’s hand. Eggs shifting in the sudden jerk of his hips, grinding against his walls and intensifying the already overwhelming sensation.

“Ye-Yeaahhn~ L-Law~” Kirin breathed out softly, reaching back to pull Law’s hair until their lips met his. Tears in his eyes as the waves of pleasure slowly abated.

“Easy, darling. We’ve got places to be—can tend to that pretty pussy when we get back. Know I’d keep you so sweet all day if you let me.” Law teased, licking along Kirin’s trembling lips.

Kirin whined for real this time.

They both agreed to avoid going outside for as long as possible—besides trips to the lake that only got colder with every passing day. Until Law bullied Kirin into staying home while they went for a swim, unwilling to let Kirin catch a cold. Which would probably be less likely if Law didn’t feel the need to reenact breeding Kirin on the shore every time they visited.

But, eventually, groceries and supplies started to run dry. Necessitating a shopping trip. If Kirin wasn’t so nervous about the state he’d be in after laying an unclear amount of eggs, he’d keep putting it off. But Law was… incredibly intense about Kirin getting rest after the fact. Only managing enough logic to explain once that, usually, mermaids that lay eggs are totally wiped out after birthing and are easy prey for all manner of predators. And illnesses for that matter.

Law rubbed Kirin’s body, massaging trembling muscles as Kirin pulled himself back together enough to be decent again. Clothes little deterrent for either of them, but at least a few seconds of effort to remove, which bought time if Kirin wasn’t overwhelmed by a sudden spike of libido.

After a few minutes, where Kirin had to ground himself to keep from begging for more than Law’s hand, he finally managed to stand up and head to the closet. Retrieving a fairly nice pair of sweats, a pregnancy bra just in case he leaked—the horror—and a fluffy sweater large enough to normally reach mid-thigh. Now it barely covered his ass but was thick enough that with some tucking, looked like he slipped the edges into his pants and the rest of the fabric billowed out comedically. Throwing on a heavy jacket helped sell the illusion a little more, especially considering it was meant to be layered for deep winter.

Law had it easier, just tossing on some pants and a hoodie. Looking criminally comfortable as the dark fabric draped over their broad shoulders. Neck bared perfectly for a few kisses—that Kirin did not give them because they had places to be.

Now civilized and totally not horny at the slightest breeze, Kirin shuffled out of the house, Law just behind him like a dark shadow. Gold eyes glaring out at the world like there was supposed to be someone waiting for the slightest indication of weakness. If there was, they would find none with how Law stood sentry at Kirin’s side. Clambering into the car, Law thoughtfully holding open the door and kissing his cheek as they helped pull the seat belt across, Kirin waiting until Law was seated beside him. Buckled in and safe.

With a soft turn of the keys, the car rumbled to life.

Truthfully, there was another reason Kirin had been putting off this trip.

Even if he wasn’t heavily pregnant with mermaid eggs, Kirin wouldn’t want to visit the town. It felt too soon. A lingering threat he could only imagine worse and worse with every passing thought. The town would definitely recognize him—even after all this time. More importantly, they’d recognize who he was. The not-a-girl-skin-too-tight-name-not-right that left the town years ago. Kirin struggled for years under that old name. Mourned it, sometimes. How easy life could have been if Kirin could have just…

Been her.

But it wasn’t meant to be.

That perfect granddaughter died before she even had a chance to live. No grave to mourn her, either. Just a name left behind and a few albums filled with a walking corpse. Still, he didn’t… totally regret it. Growing up was hard no matter what you were. Those pictures simply prove that Kirin had always known on some level his body was wrong. Straining in different directions until he found something that fit a little better. Bit by bit.

It was hard on him.

Hard on his grandparents, who didn’t understand what it was like to hate the false curves his body grew as time went on. It seemed, at least, that in his absence, they found peace with who he was. As he did the same, in different ways admittedly. Eventually settling so well in his body that he grew out his hair again. No longer afraid of appearing feminine like he did so long ago.

This was his body.

Everyone else could go suck his strap about it.

Still, it was time to face the music. Even if he hadn’t ran into Law again, eventually he’d have to head into town for one reason or another.

Backroads turned from dirt to blacktop. Curling around thick, wooded areas and alongside a few sheer cliffs with iron railing dotted with reflective panels. Rural giving way to slightly less rural until Kirin was in the town proper again. Where the shops he used to frequent with his grandparents stood just as they had before. Maybe a few layers of paint between now and then, but otherwise just the same.

Kirin pulled to a gentle stop at a traffic light, noting there weren’t many cars out this early—which was good and what he wanted anyway. Eyes drifting over the only other car on the road, sitting idle in a gas station while the driver talked to the cashier. Head jerking back as a smear of color caught his eyes.

He had thought, for just a moment, that it was a colorful kiddy display. Like a butterfly declaring sale prices just ‘flying by’ or something. And it kinda was. Big, goofy eyes looking out at him with a cheeky smile, wings spread wide to almost block out the cartoon sun behind it. Each wing a delicate gradient of rainbow hues with faint black lines swirling across the colors. A caterpillar with each chunky segment a different stripped variation of a particular pride flag.

Even if Kirin wanted to argue it was a coincidence… well, he may as well tell Law he wanted to nap in the lake again while it was near freezing.

Still that was… it was…

“Green.” Kirin jerked, looking ahead to find Law was correct.

Green light.

A bit dazed, Kirin continued driving.

That gas station was still definitely a mom and pop store, not commercially owned at all. And it wasn’t June, either… Just cringe enough to be sincere. A little funny and cute without being too in your face. Like a big corporation trying too hard for diversity points. Hand drawn and colored deliberately with full awareness how on the nose it was.

The grocery store, at least, didn’t have cringe butterflies and caterpillars on it—actually it was winter, why the spring imagery?!—but it did have an army of snowmen lining the glass windows under sale posters. Each one with scarfs and hats and dopey rock smiles and carrot noses. Most had generic rainbow color somewhere on their ensemble. A red scarf with colorful fringe. A hat lined with fur tipped with vivid colors. But a few had specific flags. Bisexual and lesbian… trans and asexual. Kirin thought one was even pansexual but in dashes to represent a knitted scarf that made it slightly hard to make out a dozen or so feet away.

It was too specific to be a diversity facade. And in such a small town—why bother?

Kirin sat there, a bit shell shocked.

It had been years since he was here… but… surely not long enough for this level of pride integration?

“…Are you alright?” Law asked softly. Kirin jerked, reflexively twisting the key in the ignition to shut off the engine.

“…yeah. Just… confused.” Kirin admitted softly, staring at the trans scarf wrapped around a fat snowman with what appeared to be paw prints on the border. “A trans furry?” Kirin whispered to himself.

For one, hysterical moment, Kirin thought he was being punked.

No way.

No way in hell did this shithole little town become so accepting someone could openly be, not only trans, but a furry.

And yet… that damn snowman had on an asexual hat with what appeared to be cat ears.

A worker? A customer? A fucking joke?!

Kirin had no fucking idea. He’d be less shocked if Law suddenly suggested they skip getting eggs and make omelets with the ones he was carrying at this point.

“Right! Time to get our shit and get out of here.” Kirin huffed, Law eagerly slipped free of the car and opening Kirin’s door for him. “Thank you.”

Maybe a cult took over?!

A very inclusive cult but it made more sense than anything else Kirin came up with.

The inside was less confusing than the snowman display, but there was still a few hints of pride dotted around the place. Mostly stupid puns that caught Kirin off guard with an ugly snort. A few disbelieving chuckles at a cardboard Santa waving pride flags with a wide smile in the cookie aisle.

Thankfully, Law kept him on task in getting everything they needed. Their basket quickly filling up with what they had on the list a few things that Kirin suddenly lingered on. Mostly sweets, which Law responded to by wordlessly adding them to the cart. Doubling back for more fruits with a smug smile.

“Can’t just have sweets, Kiri-ya.” Law huffed when Kirin gave him a questioning look. Even with cravings, the card was mostly filled with healthy foods and quick meals. Some set up ingredients for more filling dinners or breakfasts. Kirin was happy he had so few bills to worry about, confident that he could afford all of this without compromise.

Pushing the buggy up to the check out, where a young woman with a bisexual pin just under her name tag, along with the symbol for women. Violet hair cut in choppy sections around her ears like she stepped out of a cyberpunk movie and a wide smile.

“Hi! Find everything you were looking for?” Kirin nodded, assisting Law in placing their groceries on the belt. “Good! Hey, you seem new. Just passing through or are you staying for a bit?” she asked curiously, scanner beeping as she efficiently made her way through the line.

“Staying… I… I inherited my grandparent’s house recently. Decided to move back.” Kirin admitted softly. She froze, her eyes looking at him with growing recognition.

“Oh! OH! I am so sorry—they were so loved here, did a lot for the community, you know. You’re Kirin, right? They’d be so happy you decided to stay.” She stammered softly with a sad smile. Kirin was floored, Law thoughtfully keeping the line going until no more groceries were left and pushed the cart around him. Loading up the scanned items with sharp eyes. “If you need anything, just ask! Anyone, really! They… they really did a lot for us all. Even broke that prickly bastard’s jaw—that pastor guy who just kept going on and on about gays burning in hell—it was glorious!”

“B-Broke his jaw?!” Kirin stammered, certain suddenly she was talking about… well, literally anyone else. His grandparents viewed church service as sacred. Wouldn’t hear a word about Kirin skipping out or making a fuss.

“Yeah! I was there, you know! Hated service but, well, what can you do?” She shrugged. “But yeah, gramps just handed Nana his coat, all polite as you please, and told him ‘you either walk as Jesus did, or fall as Lucifer with all that hate in your heart. Shame on you, letting the devil in so deep and foul’! And he didn’t listen, kept droning on until gramps grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the parking lot ‘where God isn’t watching anyway’—hah!—and with one punch—Bam! Knocked smooth out! He got reassigned soon after. A few pastors later and Berkley came in—it’s been so nice since then.” She sighed with a pleased smile, ringing up the last item.

“…So all the pride stuff?” Kirin asked softly, still reeling at the idea his grandfather punched a pastor.

“Most of it was their idea at first. ‘Love thy neighbor’ and all that. There was some… push back. Of course. But most didn’t want to go toe to toe with gramps, and the few who did either left or changed their tune to a quieter one real quick. It’s not perfect, of course. Still get some people throwing up a fuss about something or other but… it’s a lot better now.” She admitted quietly. “Because of them.” She swallowed hard, tears in her eyes.

“…I see.” Kirin breathed out, swiping his card almost breathlessly.

It seemed impossible.

Had to be.

The idea that they could love and accept him was far fetched back when he stormed out—but not totally out of reach.

But changing the entire town?

Can’t be.

It couldn’t be right. At least some of it had to be—be exaggerated. Memories of the dead only shown in the softest, kindest light.

“…Thank you.” Kirin said softly, making note of the kind, tender way she had referred to his grandparents. Like she knew them personally.

They had changed after he left. Kirin knew that.

But so much?

He had to see. Find some… some proof or something that didn’t drip with grief of a pillar of the community no longer present.

The drive back was a blur. Law anxiously purring beside him as Kirin drove back to their home. Nearly leaping out of the car when Kirin parked to beat him to the door. Hands shaking as they helped him out. But Kirin only had eyes for the front door. Unsteady feet walking up the porch and stumbling to his grandparent’s room—the last place he had to look into. Hadn’t dared to since he came back.

It wasn’t too dissimilar to how he remembered it.

A large, plush bed with dozens of hand embroidered pillows his grandma had made herself over the years. A few he didn’t recognize with soft blues, pinks, and white here and there. Dotted in the petals of flowers or down the backs of frogs. Walls littered with old photos, a few clearly printed from social media in glossy paper of Kirin with friends. Smiling wide and happy, sometimes drunk. Newspaper clippings pinned on boards of various local events, seemingly growing in number by year as various pride themed events or causes.

Kirin sobbed, hit by a wave of nostalgia as his grandmother’s perfume curled around him, mixed with the cologne and aftershave his grandfather used to trim his beard. He felt small and weak as he stumbled to the bed. Crawling onto it’s plush surface and reaching for the three envelopes that lay there. Two with a signature he recognized, his name in curling letters and scratched print. The unknown one a delicate hand and inked with fancy penmanship.

Too weak to open the ones he recognized, Kirin tore open the unknown one first. Law slipping onto the bed beside him, kissing his hair and stroking his back as Kirin read the contents.

“Kirin,

My apologies for the circumstances to which you are now reading this letter. Though we have never met, your grandparents spoke endlessly of you with little prompting, particularly… near the end. If this letter has a tone of familiarity you do not reciprocate, I blame those many, fond stories to which I have humbly received since taking office at the local church.

You may wonder why I am writing to you, especially given where this letter resides.

I wished to let you know that I have been inside your home after their passing—and that I only did as was wished of me.

I turned off any lights left on. Cleared out food that may spoil until you came—or sold the house willed to you as is your right. Checked to ensure no major repairs needed tending to before your arrival (of which there was thankfully none, your grandfather was an exceptionally handy man). Retrieved the letters asked of me and placed them as you have found them.

And then I locked the doors on my way out.

Should you find yourself in a position to read these letters with no support, my office is always open. I have taken over the previous Pastor’s spot after he… requested leave elsewhere, shall we say. And from what I’ve heard, you would know where to find it, so I won’t patronize you by describing the exact location—as though you are a stranger to the house of God. I offer my support in this difficult time as a stranger, but also as someone who regarded your family with great love and admiration for all they’ve done in the community up to their passing.

If that support should be silent, a gentle presence as you work your way through the last written words of your grandparents, so be it.

If you wish for soft, vocal assurance at such a time, so be it as well.

It would be my honor, no matter your choice, to uplift you in whatever way I can in these difficult times. Regardless of your relationship with God—as a fellow man in grief.

Pastor Jonathan Berkley,

Head of Domus’ Saint Jude’s Catholic Church,

Leader of LGBTQ+ Services and Troubled Souls Support Groups (Every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday)”

Kirin cried, touched and confused beyond words at the implication of the letter.

He hadn’t been to a service since he left, but the offer… Kirin sobbed, a heavy weight releasing from his shoulders as Law’s voice drifted into his ears, soft like feathers on his skin.

“You aren’t alone, darling. But if you want, we can go there now. Anything—anything you want, I’ll get it. Do it.” Law swore gently. Kirin shook his head.

“N-No—I-I wanna read it—what they said—wanted to say to me.” Kirin sniffled, rubbing his face into Law’s shoulder as he gathered himself.

Maybe later, he’d visit the pastor. See for himself how accepting the man is. But…

Kirin set the letter down and reached for his grandmother’s delicate handwriting.

Eyes skipping over the opening line several times as he wept.

“Hey baby.

It’s not lame to still call you that, is it?

I know, that’s not the name you go by now, by any means. I know it’s ‘Kirin’.

Kirin.

What a lovely name you’ve chosen. I wondered, sometimes, if it’s pronounced how I think it is. How you said it when you first settled on a name for yourself.

Was it here, baby?

Did you have to whisper it to yourself late at night in your room? Or down by the lake—as you so loved visiting—with a great shout. Certain none would hear you.

Or maybe it was on the road when you left.

I hope it wasn’t spat out—such a lovely burden as a name deserves to be cradled on the tongue as a revelation. A completion of the self.

I wondered about it often.

After you left.

Oh, baby… my heart aches that I did not make this house a home in which you felt so loved as to share such truths with me. That God did not have a firmer hand in ensuring I did not misstep with such a fragile thing as your trust. In the end, though, I have no one to blame but myself.

Any excuses I may have fall short the moment I look at your pictures. So few in which you looked happy, baby. And the blame rests firmly on my own shoulders.

You grew like a weed, in all those pictures. But that faintly uncomfortable expression can hardly be blamed on Sunday clothes, can it? Always knew, on some level, didn’t you?

And I think I did too. That there was something that… didn’t fit in your soul.

In another world, where I was wiser. Kinder. Where my love for you wasn’t eclipsed by stubborn pride and fear—fear that you were growing in ways I couldn’t guide you through as I swore when you were a bundle in my arms—maybe I would have seen you baptized with your true name.

That thought haunts my dreams sometimes.

What we could have had if we weren’t such fools—your grandfather and I.

It’s actually kind of funny, you know.

When he first held you, your grandfather thought you were a boy. I swatted his shoulder, of course, and he laughed. Admitted you looked more like a russet potato than a boy.

Scared me witless with his booming laughter one night, you know. Tears in his eyes as he declared he was right after all.

About you being a boy, that is.

Not a potato.

We watched from afar after our tempers cooled. At first, it was still with such stubborn pride—I freely admit. Certain you’d… change your mind. Come back and admit you were being silly. A phase and all that. Fake social media accounts watching silently for the day you proved us right.

But you know what we saw instead, baby?

Oh, we saw you grow.

Saw that beautiful smile bloom between pictures of curious friends we couldn’t even hope to understand.

A few times, our tempers threatened to overwhelm us.

Can’t count how many times we started writing emails and DMs to berate you.

But those old pictures… they didn’t hold a candle to how happy you were now. We ended up deleting them. Sometimes arguing with each other.

It got nasty, sometimes.

But we learned. And we sought out knowledge the Good Lord freely provided to open up our hearts.

We… almost reached out several more times after that. Sometimes with too much pride, certain that now that we had the right words you’d come back. But they hadn’t reached our hearts yet. Not really.

And somewhere along the way, we realized that the first step back wasn’t in convincing you we were accepting. The choice to return, it was always going to be yours. And when you wanted to try again, we needed to have done the work to prove it.

We’d already started… sort of.

I still stand by the fact that your grandfather didn’t need to have that… issue in the parking lot. But oh, baby, we couldn’t handle hearing such vile things about you—even in passing. At least he didn’t do it in the church, I suppose.

It’s been years now since we spoke.

I have so many things to say. Questions to ask.

I want to know you, Kirin. All of you. All that you wish to reveal to us.

But it’s too late now.

I can feel it.

Our only mistake was never finding the courage to reach out—setting aside our pride to let you know we were trying.

I can’t ask, so I’ll never know but… I think that’s what you wanted more than anything that night.

For us to try.

To love you enough—it took so long, longer than it should have, but baby, we really did.

We really do love you enough to try. As many times as needed, we would try again. As many times as you’d let us until we got it right. We’re old, stubborn fools. Fools that took the long road to love you as you deserve. No step felt big enough to ‘prove’ our love. But loving isn’t in the proving.

It’s in every day. In opening your heart to find grace for mistakes and overcoming your own for that love. It’s hard work, loving someone right. And in the end, it’s not up to you what ‘right’ is.

Love is a choice.

And baby, oh, my sweet baby, I made my choice a long time ago to love you.

I just failed to show it as you needed it.

But I’m so endlessly proud of you, Kirin. For the lovely young man you’ve become. And I hope you find someone worth choosing to love. And that you don’t fail as we have—taking so long to love someone right until its too late.

I love you, baby.

And more than anything else,

I see you, baby.

With love,

An old foolish grandmother.”

Not waiting—masochistically ripping off the band aid—Kirin grabbed his grandfather’s letter. Wanting to get it over with. His heart a bleeding wound that swelled his chest with a gory sort of relief. Heavy and full already with catharsis, his trembling hands struggled with the sealed letter. But Law’s steady hands settled his own and ripped along the top with a reverent ease. Their heart soothing like the rumbling purr the vibrated Law’s chest.

And finally, Kirin read his grandfather’s words. A hoarse laughter slipping out in mild disbelief.

“Hey Son.

Your grandma would smack me for starting this letter like that, but I’ve done it several times already so it’s hardly going to be the first time.

Probably the last, though.

Yeah.

I think she’s right too. That our time is coming to join the Good Lord’s side. I hope we get to, after all the wrongs we’ve done.

I feel silly now. Spending so long just… I don’t know. Assuming you’d magically know we finally got our heads on straight. That if we just did a little more, that’s all it would take to get a phone call.

I’d call it wasted time, but only in the respect of not doing something to let you know we still loved you.

Yeah, even after I was a jackass before you left. Won’t justify it by saying ‘oh, you know how I get sometimes’.

No.

I was just an asshole.

So busy trying to hold onto my granddaughter that I never considered my grandson. Couldn’t, cause then I’d be wrong (though, if we want to be technical about it, I was right at the start but dove rolls her eyes every time I mention it so whatever I guess). Then I’d have a whole new world of pain to protect you from that I didn’t understand.

But I didn’t need to protect you that night, did I?

I needed to man up and make sure you always knew this house was your home. Shelter from the world outside. I can’t change the whole world—but you and dove were my world. And I failed you both. Again and again until my stubborn ass finally got with the program.

It felt good to drag this community to God’s side, right and proper.

I don’t care how much dove tutted at me about it, it felt righteous dragging than sniveling coward out and breaking his jaw. If he really thought so high and mighty of himself, he would have been ready to defend his ‘thoughts’ about the Good Book with two fists rather than running his mouth.

Place looks different now.

Not like they updated the buildings much or anything, but it feels…

Feels like God is in every home, filling it with love as he asked of us. To love as he would. Treating those we view as less as we would his son. Until there is no position beneath us. Until all we see is our fellow man going about the world on their own journey.

You’ll always be more than that to me, though.

Dove still calls you ‘baby’.

I never got to call you son.

But I want you to know, if you ever read this, that you’ve become a man I would envy. Proud and unafraid to love in this difficult world. Hopefully not as much of a fool as we are—as I was. You grew your hair out (dove cried for hours seeing it below your shoulders again and spent several more lamenting how most men these days are too afraid to be seen as delicate with such length of hair, how handsomely you wore it. Were it anyone else, I’d feel jealous. Still kinda am. Fucking male pattern baldness, you’re a lucky man to not have that worry). Made friends who are wild and strange as the woods in our backyard.

You found your own home, out there.

I hope you find a little bit of home back here too, after I’m gone.

I hope you remember the things I taught you—so glad I never kept with the school of thought that girls should only worry about makeup and looking pretty for their husbands. That I taught my granddaughter how to be self sufficient so my grandson could be his own man.

Look at me, rambling again. I have half a mind to burn my previous letters, particularly the ones where I was still being a stubborn ass. But you deserve to know the truth. Even the version about how long it took to pull myself together.

Even when I was an ignorant son of a bitch, I loved you, Kirin. I just didn’t realize how much until I was gone.

Marble set me straight a time or two—you wouldn’t know him. He was a stray that was left on our porch after you left and the one to blame for the feral colony likely haunting the back porch. He passed a few months ago. I think you would have liked him.

He was almost as stubborn as I was—and therefore at least a hair more tolerable than myself.

I’m so proud of the man you’ve become, son. I’m just sorry I never got to meet you properly in person.

With pride and everlasting regret,

Your foolish old man.”

“M-Marble?!” Kirin sobbed, laughing to himself as Law gently set the letters to the side and scooped him up.

“You know the cat?” Law asked softly, carrying him back to their room as Kirin clutched their shoulders.

“Y-Yeah—almost hit him—thought I’d come back, piss drunk and furious. W-Was raining so hard, Law. A-Almost died. Almost hit em… saw those big ol’ eyes and knew they’d love him more than me.” Kirin wept, curling fitfully into the blankets as Law climbed in beside him.

“I don’t know… seems they loved you a lot, baby.” Law mused softly. “But maybe ‘Marble’ reminded them what loving someone’s all about.” Kirin laughed, burying his face into Law’s shoulder. Head swimming with confused, hormonal thoughts.

“M-Maybe… wish I came back sooner.” Kirin admitted softly. “Wish I knew…” Law shushed him with gentle kissed to his face.

“Wasn’t just you, darling. They knew they messed up. They loved you, and right now, that’s all that matters.” Law cooed, pulling up the blankets around them both. “Let’s take a nap, baby. You’ve been so brave for us today, you deserve some rest.”

Kirin sniffled, exhaustion weighing down his spine as he sank further into Law’s arms.

“…Yeah. C-Come back after putting up the groceries? Can’t leave them out…” Kirin whispered. Law chuckled, pulling him in close.

“Already did. Not going anywhere.” Law reassured him.

Kirin sleepily assumed his hazy assessment of his grandparent’s room took longer than he thought. But with little energy left, Kirin let sleep take him far away from the lingering regrets. Safe in Law’s arms, mild discomfort settling low in his belly a distant thought.

Until suddenly it was not a mild discomfort.

Kirin whining and squirming as he rode out the apex of a cramp that left him breathless in Law’s arms. His lover’s eyes almost glowing in the dark of the room as they brushed away his tears.

“H-Hurts—c-cramps—I don’t know what—” Law shot up, gently pushing away the blankets and tugging Kirin’s pants free. Kirin, still gasping with the pain, kicked off his shoes and arched up to let Law remove his clothes swiftly. Law pressed their hand over Kirin’s distended belly, eyes narrowed in thought as the eggs shifted suddenly.

“Ah—It’s time, Kiri-ya. Let’s get you in the bath.” Law breathed out, stripping off his shirt and the bra he’d forgotten to take off when he got home. “It’ll be easier in warm water.” They explained softly when Kirin whined in question, easily picking him up and racing to the bathroom. The porcelain edge of the tub was freezing cold on Kirin’s ass, but Law was quick to turn on the hot water. Testing the temperature until he was satisfied and helping Kirin into it.

Kirin gasped, another intense cramp shaking his spine as the water crept up his body. Barely registering Law stripping to join him. Legs melting into a long, sinewy tail. Fins curling above the growing waterline as they settled Kirin in their lap. After a point, the water turned off and Law pressed kisses to Kirin’s damp shoulders. The heat of the bathroom doing much to soothe the growing tension.

“A-AH! H-How do they—get out?!” Kirin asked hazily, spreading his thighs on either side of Law’s tail. Law laughed softly.

“’Bout how they went in. Not always safe to lay them, so they need a partner to… ease them open again.” Law huffed, hand slipping between Kirin’s thighs.

“B-Bullshit!” Kirin gasped, whining as Law pinched his clit. Free hand teasing his nipple as opaque fluid beaded up. Swiping the liquid and rubbing it hard into the stiff peak. Fingers slipping into his pussy and scissoring him open wide.

“Nope! Could push for hours, but that tight pussy won’t let go of it’s prize until I make it.” Law purred, twisting and tugging Kirin’s leaking chest as they perched their chin onto his shoulder to watch him squirm. “Won’t make you find out though, baby. Just keep getting wetter for me and you’ll see.” They huffed, licking up Kirin’s neck as he clenched onto their thick fingers. Kirin couldn’t see past his belly, but the gentle lap of water was telling as it gained rhythm. His legs seizing as he started to ride out the intense cramps with cresting pleasure. Pussy desperate to seize around something thick. Thicker than Law’s fingers, at least.

“T-That sounds like it takes forever~!” Kirin protested, receiving a soft kiss to his cheek.

“It usually does, yes. Some couples spend hours loosening up their partner to lay the eggs. Means they’re so safe, they can cum until they’re gaping for all those eggs. Want to be spread open, don’t you? They’re going to be pretty big—hate to hurt that cute pussy laying our babies.” Law purred, slipping in a third finger and bullying open Kirin’s pussy wider. Sucking hard on his throat as he came again.

“S-So full of shit—y-you just like teasing me!” Kirin gasped, arching up as another cramp dovetailed with the pleasure, ripping a harsh cry from his throat.

“You are so cute when you’re desperate, yeah. But I really am doing this for you, darling. This is going to be rough if I’m not careful.” Law admitted with a groan, their cock burning against Kirin’s thigh. “M-More rough, at least. C’mere, give me another one and you should be ready.” Law whispered, slipping his whole hand into Kirin’s pussy. Leaving him breathless and almost wailing as Law’s knuckles dragged against his walls. Pussy spread open so wide as Law tried to fit as much of their hand as possible inside him.

“There we are—so beautiful. Doing so well~ Taking everything I give you, what a good boy~ There—keep making that cute sound. I know you’re close. Give me a little kiss, darling~ Aaahh~” Law purred, lapping up his chin as Kirin sobbed, shuddering with his whole body as he messily smeared his tongue onto Law’s with desperation. Water and milk splashing onto his belly as he came hard, squirting onto Law’s fist as they gently rocked it against this opening. Teasing him into splaying his thighs wide to make more room.

Pulling their fist free slowly with a satisfied grin, slick fluid gushing into the filthy bath water. Law’s tail wrapped around Kirin’s splayed legs, keeping him spread open and forming a loose curl under his ass. Cock teasing up his folds and slipping in with lewd ease.

Despite being so stretched, Kirin still moaned weakly as Law’s cock dived in deep to his cervix. Smearing against the stiff opening, spreading that cold sensation with a wild look in their eye. Almost triumphant as they bared their teeth, slamming into Kirin’s willing body. Popping the thin tip inside as he came hard. Nearly jerking off Law’s cock if it wasn’t for the firm hand on his belly and harsh twist of his slippery nipple. Fucking up into his overwhelmed pussy as each passing cramp seemed more distant compared to the wave of icy pleasure. Tail contracting with almost bruising force as Law fucked his cervix hard.

Eggs shifting and shaking with every thrust, certainly pressing against Law’s cock as they seemingly fucked Kirin with the intent to breed him again right there. Hand flat against Kirin’s swollen belly possessively.

“Law~ L-L—aaahhn~ P-Please! S-So full—c-can’t take anymore eggs--!” Kirin gasped, feeling a sudden gush of fluid from his pussy. Law smirked, hair sticking to their forehead.

“I-I don’t know, Kiri-ya~ Look so good right now, I think you could take a few more~” Law teased him, licking into his mouth when he started to protest. “M-Maybe keep you like this for days. See if those eggs won’t just slide right out by the time I’m done fucking that tight pussy. Pretty body seems to agree~” Law purred, squeezing a spurt of fluid from his chest as their cock slammed in deep. Cold liquid filled Kirin’s core as he suddenly fell limp, muscles quivering with a faint, rolling orgasm as Law pulled out.

“N-Noooo~ OH! YES! L-LAW! Mmmmmnngh~! Ah~ Ah! A-AHH~!” Kirin began to protest but his voice failed as the floodgates opened. Body seizing down onto his empty pussy, pushing out fluid from deeper inside until a firm object plugged his cervix. Law’s teeth fixed on his throat as they twisted and teased his nipples, letting Kirin work through it on his own otherwise. Slowly, the slick egg slipped further down. Encouraged by seizing muscles as his icy cervix simply stretched out wider and wider. Kirin wailed, drooling as the egg popped free into his pussy, filling the desperate space. Rubbing against his walls as it fell down to nuzzle against his pussy’s twitching opening. “O-Ooooh~ Law, i-it’s right there~ r-rIGHt THeRE~!” Kirin reached down under his belly and spread himself open.

Fingers slipping in his folds as he struggled to concentrate with the heavy weight of another egg forcing his body open before the first one could leave. Finally, he hooked his fingers into his pussy, pushing back the egg before bearing down on it. Gasping wetly as it finally slipped out only to be replaced by another one.

Kirin squirmed, pinned open on Law’s lap as he rubbed his pussy, forcing orgasm after orgasm to empty out his body of eggs. Slowly, the swelling in his belly went down. Law murmuring encouragement and praise into his skin with pride.

“Doing so well, darling. How can I stop myself from filling you back up when you’re doing so good for me? Laying them so sweetly~ Keep rubbing that cute pussy while it works so hard.” Law breathed out. “Think I can replace them after this? Bend you over the tub and breed that pussy again? Seems a waste to let you go empty so soon~” Law purred.

Kirin shook his head, whining as another egg slipped free.

“T-Too soon—too much, L-LAW~!” Kirin whined, furiously rubbing his clit to ride out another high. Sobbing as he waited for another egg to breach his cervix and fill his pussy. But none came, leaving Kirin squirming and desperate for that final relief he just knew was waiting for him.

“You did it, baby. That’s all of them.” Law whispered softly, stroking his slightly rounded belly before hesitating. “Oh? Wait. One more? Let me help you this time, Kiri-ya~ Worked so hard, just relax for me.” Law brushed aside his hand and slipped their fingers in deep. Searching for his opening as the other hand pressed down hard. Kirin felt it when Law found their goal. Fingertip slipping inside as one last egg pressed down.

Kirin gasped, sobbing against Law’s chest as they teased him. Pushing the egg back and forth as they gently fucked his cervix with their finger. Pushing Kirin to the edge before yanking free, cum shooting out in thick spurts as the egg burst free of his pussy too fast to comprehend. Breathlessly whining and quivering around nothing as the last one settled against the clutch cradled in Law’s tail.

Slowly, Kirin collapsed fully against Law.

“Mmmm~ no ‘ore, please ‘o m’re, baby~ A-aahh~ t-too m’ch. Tir’d.” Kirin whined softly, looking up at Law tearfully. They smiled, kissing his sweaty forehead.

“Course not, darling. It’ll be fall before I grow more eggs to fill that needy pussy back up.” Law smirked, relishing the soft whine Kirin let slip. “Rest up, baby. Seeing you squirm for so long really riled me up. Maybe I can’t breed you yet, but we have weeks before whatever you kept is ready to be laid. Plenty of time to enjoy ourselves.”

“T-There’s more?!” Kirin whined, still shuddering against Law in the lukewarm water. They pat his distended belly a little with a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah. Seems at least one made it, darling. We’ll have to wait and see—but all these are duds. Any that managed to keep thriving would have stuck to your cute walls while the others were pushed out to make more room.” Law explained softly. “And you did wonderfully laying them all, Kiri-ya~ I’m almost sad to see it end. You looked so cute squirming and rubbing your pussy trying to get them all out. I might not be able to give you more right now but…” Law trailed off meaningfully with a sharp, hungry grin.

Kirin huffed, aching body too tired for any of that…

But maybe after a quick nap?

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Halt & Catch Fire: Part Three

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: You're done being a puppet in their plans. You're done letting them control you. You're finally going to take back your life by becoming something you didn't know was possible. your eyes are opened to something better and God forbid anyone who disrespects you.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

"Are we going to pretend that I didn't hear what she said back there?" Dean says.

He follows you outside so that you two can have some kind of privacy.

"What she said?" you ask, trying to play dumb when you know it's not going to work.

"Y/N don't fuck with me. Leah wouldn't have said that if it wasn't true. Is it true? Were you pregnant?"

There's no point in hiding it now.

"I wanted you to hear it from me," you cry. "I found out a couple of weeks ago. I made Castiel get rid of it."

"You did what?" he says in a low and dark tone. 

That means he is beyond pissed.

"We agreed to not raise a child in this life, Dean. I thought this is what we both wanted!"

"You didn't think to tell me any of this?" he finally yells. "Did you even care what I want?"

"Of course, Dean, but we talked about it! How can we raise a child in this life together right now? With Lucifer? Michael? Amara? The apocalypse?"

"It doesn't matter what we discussed, Y/N! You got pregnant and you killed it! Without even thinking of me! What, did you think I was never going to find out? Does Sam know?"

"Yes," you whisper.

"Oh great, everyone knew but me. I'm so glad you decided to hide this from me. You're supposed to be my family, Y/N!"

"Dean, I am. This decision has been eating me alive. I panicked. I didn't know what to do."

"Not killing the baby would have been step one! That was my child!" he screams.

"Dean, please, I'm so sorry," you cry.

"Leave me alone," he shakes his head.

"Dean, please stay, and let's talk about this."

"I can't even look at you right now," he gets into his car angrily. 

He starts her up and peels out of the parking lot in a screech of tires. Your whole world comes crashing down around you, and your knees buckle from the weight. Arms wrap around your body to keep you from falling, and you turn in his arms to bury your head in Sam's chest.

"He hates me," you sob.

"You know, I had another dream of Amara," you say shakily.

You're trying really hard not to cry right now.

"Oh yeah? What about?"

"She told me that our daughter is going to be a witch." You clear your throat noisily. "She said that she doesn't know when our daughter will get her powers because it's different for everyone, I guess. It took me until I was twenty-six to discover mine, so hers can be at any age."

"Well, she'll have a great teacher to learn from," he chuckles.

Tears build up in your eyes, and only two of them fall before you sniffle, signaling to Dean that you are crying.

"I just want to say something," your voice cracks. "My due date is in a month, and I don't know where we stand or if we will get better, but just know that I'm okay. I'll be fine. We can raise her together because she deserves both of her parents in her life, and I don't want to take that away from her."

You're full-on crying now, and it's the kind of crying that breaks Dean's heart. You want to be fine but he knows you aren't, and that is what breaks his heart.

"I don't want to start anything, but as long as Lisa is in the picture, then we can't be anything more than parents." You pause to try and calm yourself but it doesn't work. "I miss you, Dean, like a lot, but I can't make you choose between Lisa--I won't. I just hope you make the right decision here because this is getting to be too damn hard for me."

He really misses you too, and he thinks it's time to have the talk with Lisa. There is something that is keeping him tied to you, and he needs to man up and do something about it or else you will be gone forever. 

However, that's the thing... he knows you won't. He's not being fair to you, and he has to man up before you realize that you don't actually need him in your life. The day you realize that is the day his world will stop.

"Y/N Singer and Dean Winchester come together today to join in marriage. I'll keep this short. I hear you two are saying your own vows?"

"Yes," you grin.

The minister backs away slightly, giving you the floor.

"I fell in love with you at age fourteen when we were on a hunt and I got hurt badly. You took care of me, and I suddenly couldn't picture a future without you in it. Even at fourteen, I knew that one day I'd be marrying you and having your children. There have been low-lows, but they don't matter anymore because I have you and you have me. I can hunt for the rest of my life, but the real adventure is getting to be your wife. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I know we're going to do it together."

You can see tears in his eyes at your words.

"I was never a kid. I never stopped to think about what I was going to do the week after or even a month after. I always thought about the here and now because I couldn't afford to think about anything else. Then you came along, and I allowed myself to care about what I wore, what I said, and how it affected you. You've always been there for me even when I didn't see it, and for that, I love you so much. You gave me everything I stopped believing in. You gave me Joanna and your love and a future. Suddenly, my future doesn't look as bloody as it was before. I still have a long way to go and a lot to learn, but it's going to be easier with you by my side for the rest of my life."

You're crying from the impact of his words. You grab Dean's hand and try to stop the tears from falling.

"Do you, Dean Winchester, take Y/N Singer to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," he says.

He takes your engagement ring and slides it onto your left ring finger, and you admire how it shines brightly as if it were meant to be there.

"Do you, Y/N Singer, take Dean Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," you sniffle.

You take out John Winchester's wedding ring and slide it onto Dean's left ring finger.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Dean pulls you in by your waist, and you meet him halfway. Your lips mold together, fitting perfectly together.

Dean finally managed to get to your room after calming down. Joanna is still with the social worker because he does not want her to see you after you get the news you will never hold your son. You're just waking up from surgery and notice Dean closes the door right behind him.

"Hey, what happened?" you panic slightly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired, but okay. What happened?"

"You fell and hit your head on the side of the laundry machine. Sweetheart, you had a brain bleed. You were taken into surgery, and you're going to be just fine. Your magic healed you of the injury, and they expect you to go home in a few days."

As he is explaining, you're looking around the room in confusion. Your hand immediately goes to your stomach, and you gasp when you don't feel your children inside.

"Where's our kids? Joanna?"

"Joanna is with a social worker. She is just fine. Maryann--"

"Please tell me our baby girl's okay," you whimper.

"She is in the NICU right now. She is on a ventilator, so they're going to keep her here for two months. They want to monitor her progress, but the doctor says that she's very healthy for her age. She's going to be okay."

"And our son?" A fresh wave of tears comes for Dean, and the second you see the water in his eyes, you shake your head in denial. "No. Do not tell me anything but he's okay. Please, Dean, tell me our son is okay."

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart."

His words flow out of his mouth but you're not hearing what he has to say. After letting it sink in that you're never going to hold him and make memories with him, you tip your head back and just sob. Dean scoots closer to your bed and grabs your hand, leaning in to hold you close.

"Tell me what you're thinking."

You grab the soap and run it along his body, getting every inch available to you. You run the washcloth over his right arm and he flinches when it touches the Mark.

"This power... makes me nervous. I'm so fucking scared that it's going to consume me. I've always been an angry guy but this is different. It's like it's amplifying that part of me. I'm trying so fucking hard not to let it affect you and the kids, but I don't know how much longer I'll be able to control it. I'm scared I'll end up hurting you or the kids."

"I'm scared, too. When I touched the First Blade for the first time, it was like my whole body was consumed by my magic. It felt like a dark part of me opened up at that moment. I didn't like how it felt."

"You know, when you touched the blade, I saw red. I don't know if it was all in my mind, but your magic turned red for a split second."

"That's what I'm talking about. That power was dark and chaotic and messy and it scared me. I'm terrified that harnessing that kind of power is gonna get someone killed."

"We'll get through this together."

"Yeah, I know we will. I love you."

"I love you."

If Dean wasn't in a library full of students, he would be crying. You two have been through so much together and you're throwing it all down the drain. For what? How can he save you after all this? What's going to happen when you get your soul and remember what you've done to him? Will you two ever catch a fucking break?"

"Dean," Sam says and shakes his shoulder.

Dean peels his eyes away from you and notices Janet is gone.

"Sorry," Dean whispers.

The junkyard is where you three are headed next. Joey's car is inside the junkyard waiting to be broken down for parts. It hasn't yet which is a good thing because it can be burned. Sam and Dean walk ahead of you so you pick at the device in your neck without them noticing.

You know the life you and Dean have shared together. You know what you've meant to him but you couldn't care less about it. All emotional ties to Dean have been severed. He keeps acting like you're going to wake up one day and all those feelings are going to come rushing back. Guess what? They're not. They're gone as long as you don't have a soul. If and when you get reunited with your soul, what's going to happen when you start to remember all the horrible things you've done? Think Dean is going to be enough to bring you back?

You guess you'll see when you cross that bridge.

"Alright, so we're looking for something that used to resemble a pickup truck," Sam says. He shines his flashlight at the different cars before coming to one that has the license plate SEMPERF on it. "Here it is."

On the front seat is this icky gooey substance you're sure is not oil.

"I'm guessing that ain't oil," you say.

"It's ectoplasm."

Sam takes out his EMF reader and watches as it lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Look at this. Joey?"

"Looks like it. So, big brother didn't get along with little brother and was pissed that he was driving his baby. I get it."

"What are you saying? If you died and I drove your car, you'd kill me?"

"If you stunk her up with taquitos, probably. Alright, let's do this."

Sam and Dean perform the usual: Salt, kerosene, and a lighter. You stay for a bit to get warm by the truck fire before leaving with the brothers. Hunt solved, right?

Wrong.

x

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[starlightswitch]

Bad People at Security

@flashfictionfridayofficial Side characters from a WIP I think I am going to call Keeping Warm. I wrote it at least two and a half years ago and have been calling it "snowbound"-- which is not an accurate title-- since then, so it's nice to finally have something better!

“I’m bored!” Logan whined.

Before Sam could say anything, Mandy said, “Ssh!” She had a finger to her lips and everything. Sometime in the past year she’d turned into the classic big sister.

Logan ignored her. “I’m bored!” he announced again.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Micah. He always tried acting unruffled as his first tactic.

“I want to go home!”

Sam closed her eyes. They’d explained to the kids that they’d probably be moving, that they were on this trip because it was the place they were hoping to move to—the place Sam was going to rank first if she liked the program all right—and Logan had seemed like he understood. He might just mean that he wanted to not be at the airport, not that he particularly liked where they lived now. She hoped that was the case.

“We’re not going home,” said Micah, calm and unruffled. “We’re getting on the plane just as soon as we get through here. We’ll go through, we’ll find the gate where we get on the plane, and then we’ll get on the plane.”

“I won’t get on the plane!”

“You will,” Micah said, serenely, as if he was playing an oracle in a movie.

Logan jumped up and down so his backpack flopped noisily. “I won’t I won’t I won’t!”

“Logan, quit being bad,” said Mandy.

“You’re being bad! You’re all bad!”

“That’s it.” Micah grabbed Logan and swung him up. Glaring at him nose-to-nose he said, “We do not call people bad while going through security.”

Logan was startled enough to just stare back.

Micah returned him to the floor and crouched down to continue talking to him at a volume just loud enough for Sam to hear. “Security is to catch bad people. If they think you’re bad, they take you away from everyone and make you go a different way and go through a whole bunch of other stuff. Which we do not have time for. And would be much more annoying than standing in line. So we stand in line, we follow directions, we do not yell, and we do not have tantrums. Do we understand each other?”

Sam always forgot to borrow that closing line. It was such a solid one.

Logan crossed his arms and stared at the floor.

“All right,” said Micah, getting to his feet with a sigh and a look at Sam.

The line moved. Sam nudged Carly and Mandy forward and looked for Logan. Logan clomped along with his arms folded and his eyes on the floor and nearly got run over by a frazzled-looking man in a polo with a laptop bag.

Carly grabbed her brother by the arm and dragged him along. “Let’s go. Stop being bad.”

Mandy screeched to a stop. “Don’t say that!” she ordered with showy dismay. “Do you want to have to go through the tantrum entrance?”

Sam did not look at Micah. If she looked at Micah she was going to laugh.

“I don’t!” Mandy declared, hands on her hips.

Without entirely looking at him, Sam could see Micah pulling out his phone. A moment later, hers dinged. She knew without checking that it was a text from Micah, and she knew what that text said.

the tantrum entrance

She did not look at her phone. She was not going to laugh. Not right now.